


The Two Champions

by Nahiel



Category: Dragon Age II, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, And I'm Okay With That - Freeform, Anders Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Harry is OOC, If we use the DA canon anyway, M/M, So very AU, This is NOT a crack fic, don't ask the author how this happened, seriously, she has no explanation, sorry but it had to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 94,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nahiel/pseuds/Nahiel
Summary: Harry won't go back to the Dursleys after his third year. Instead, he runs away to stay with his father's cousin's son in Kirkwall, where he'll join Hawke's merry brand of brigands. Is Hogwarts ready for a Harry trained by a Hawke?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I thought that you guys deserved a bit of an explanation that probably won’t be happening in story-verse. Here’s the way this story works: Forever and ever Harry’s realm and Thedas have been linked. There is immigration between the two realms. As it turns out, Hawke’s mother was James’ cousin. So Hawke and Harry are related in some way, shape, or form. Story starts in the summer after Harry’s third year and right before Act III begins in DA2.

 

“Messere Hawke, you’ve a visitor,” Bodahn began, an ingratiating smile on his craggy dwarven face.

 

Hawke groaned.  “Really?” he asked as he crawled out from under the covers.  “It’s the middle of the night; can’t they come back at a decent hour?”

 

“Yes, because emergencies always happen at a decent hour,” Anders muttered sleepily even as he curled into the warm spot left by Hawke.

 

“It isn’t really an emergency, Messere, but I thought it was something that you might prefer to address yourself,” Bodahn clarified with a small wince.

 

“Then tell whoever it is to come back tomorrow!” Hawke shouted, and began crawling back under the covers.  He swore, the people of Kirkwall seemed to think that he was at their beck and call just because he’d taken out the Arishok for them.  It was ridiculous.

 

“Yes Messere,” Bodahn said, and Hawke heard him leaving the room.  “He’s awfully young to be out alone in the dark in Kirkwall, though.”

 

Hawke’s eyes snapped open.  He’d only just closed them, but...  “What?” he asked flatly.  He wasn’t about to send some kid out into the streets of Kirkwall in the dark.

 

“It’s just that the boy can’t be more than thirteen years of age, Messere,” Bodahn answered.

 

Hawke closed his eyes and let out a groan.  “Well, there went my sleep for the night,” the Champion grumbled and rolled out of bed.  He made certain to take the covers with him.

 

“Making me suffer too?” Anders asked with a small, sleepy smile that made Hawke’s heart skip a beat.

 

“If I have to be up then so do you,” Hawke said with all the cheer of one used to being forced awake at odd hours by his insane friends.

 

He pecked Anders swiftly on the lips, because who could resist that adorable little smile? then pulled on his robe and made his way downstairs, Anders and his Mabari, Blade, at his heels.  There was a boy in the sitting room, pale and shaky and wearing the clothing of an Outrealmer, ratty and oversized.  He stood by the fire, the wooden stick that was an Outrealmer’s wand held loosely in his hands.  A large, black, shaggy dog was settled at his feet, tongue lolling happily.

 

“Can I help you?” Hawke asked.

 

The boy jerked in surprise and whirled, his wand coming up to point directly between Hawke’s eyes.  He dropped both the wand and his gaze with a muttered, “Sorry.”

 

Hawke shrugged.  “You just win the dubious honor of being the first person to point a weapon at me today.  I doubt that you’ll be the last.”

 

“I still shouldn’t have... I’m sorry,” the boy whispered.  His eyes were still down; his trembling had worsened.

 

Hawke felt like a monster and he hadn’t even done anything.  “It’s fine,” Hawke said with a casual wave of his hand.  “Not a bad instinct to have in a place like Kirkwall, to be honest.  Especially if you’re going to be out on the streets in the darkness.  Which brings me to the question:  You’re here at this ungodly hour of the night for a reason, right?”  And then promptly felt like a heel for even sounding half so cranky.  Really, this was just a kid.

 

“I...”  the boy paused, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  The dog at his feet leaned against him and let out a small little whine, and more of the tension left the child.  “The short version is that I won’t... I can’t stay with my Aunt and Uncle, and I needed someplace to stay for the summer, and we’re related, so I thought that maybe I could stay with you,” he said in a rush.

 

Anders burst into laughter.  “Kid, I think you’re in the wrong place,” the Mage said through his chuckles.

 

“No, sir,” the boy said, his tone respectful.  “I visited the Potter family vault and the Amell name was on the self-updating family tree, and Mr. Hawke was the only name that my... that I thought would be a viable option for taking me for the summer.  Other than the Dursleys, whom I’ve already stayed with and had a falling out with.  The tree presented him itself when I asked it.”

 

“Go around talking to trees often, do you?” Anders asked.  “Did it have much to say?  Because in my experience, they’re very close-mouthed.”

 

The child flushed and said quietly, “It was a family tree, sir, and it didn’t speak.  It merely highlighted Mr. Hawke’s name when I asked it my question.”

 

“Anders,” Hawke said in quiet rebuke.  He wasn’t all that familiar with Outrealm magic, but he knew enough of it to know that if the kid said he’d consulted an updating family tree, he probably had.  “Outrealm magic doesn’t work quite like ours.”

 

Anders let out a small huff of air and when Hawke glanced at him, alarmed, the Mage had a very sulky expression on his face.  “Well, as I know nothing of Outrealm magic and Outrealm ways, I suppose I’ll go find someplace to be useful.  Like my clinic.  I’m sure there’ll be somebody waiting down there even at this hour.  And the Darktowners are always glad for my advice.”  Anders stormed from the room.

 

Hawke winced at the sound of the cellar door slamming shut.  He supposed it was a good thing that Anders tended to leave his staff right by the entrance, otherwise the Mage would be out and about at this late hour unarmed.  Not that Justice was ever truly unarmed, but still.  Anders shouldn’t exactly be letting the d... the spirit manifest where a Templar could see.

 

Meanwhile, the child before him looked almost devastated.  “I’m sorry,” he said, the words a plea.  “I... this was a terrible idea.  I should... I should go,” he whispered.  He reached for his trunk, which Hawke hadn’t even noticed, and said, “I’m very sorry for disturbing you, sir.  You won’t see me again.  I’m sure I can find a hotel or something to stay in for the summer,” the boy threw over his shoulder as he hefted his incredibly massive trunk up by one arm and began to drag it from Hawke’s sitting room.

 

Hawke let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.  He just knew that he was going to regret this.  It wasn’t as though he didn’t have enough problems of his own; didn’t the Maker give him enough to deal with as it was?  “Stop,” he commanded.

 

The boy froze and turned back to him, the hope in his bright green eyes painful for Hawke to see.  While the color wasn’t one he’d ever seen before, the shape and the expressiveness was enough to make him think of dear Bethany.  “Sir?” the boy asked, and his voice shook with that same hope.

 

“Take a seat,” Hawke said, and nodded in the direction of one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.  “Tell me the whole story, and we’ll go from there.”  He settled himself into his own chair and Blade settled at his feet after giving the other dog a wary look.  “Bodahn, I know that it’s late, but if Orana could make us some hot tea?”

 

“Of course, Messere,” the dwarf said with a low bow, and left the room.  Hawke didn’t feel too guilty about it; he knew that Orana had worse in her time than being woken up in the middle of the night for tea.  And she would have worse if Hawke burned the manor down by trying to cook.

 

The child hesitated, then didn’t so much settle into his chair as perch nervously on it.  His own dog settled at his feet in much the same position as Blade and watched both Hawke and his Mabari, hackles raised.  “It all started with...”  The boy stopped, then shook his head.  “No, wait, my name is Harry Potter.”

 

Hawke kept his voice as gentle as he could, having some idea of how easily startled the boy was.  “It’s very nice to meet you, Harry Potter.  As you likely already know, my name is Serel Hawke.”  He was going to have to work on the boy’s nervousness if he was going to stay here for the summer.  Crazy things happened in Kirkwall, after all, and he couldn’t have the child losing it if a dragon were to attack or something.  Oh, Maker, he hoped he hadn’t just cursed them with a dragon attack.  The city was still trying to pick up after the Qunari invasion three years ago.

 

The boy opened his mouth to say something, what Hawke didn’t know, but Orana arrived with the tea.  She settled the tray on the table between them and Hawke murmured a soft, “Sorry for the trouble,” as she poured him his cup and added just the right amount of sugar, and then one for the boy.

 

“It isn’t a problem, m’lord,” Orana said, still as nervous as ever she was.  He was working with her, but it was slow going.  He knew that years of abuse couldn’t be undone in a few months of safety.  “Sir?  Your tea?” she asked softly.  The boy started and Orana added, “How much sugar?”

 

“Oh, whatever’s fine,” the boy whispered.  When she handed him his cup, with more sugar than Hawke would have been able to tolerate added, he said quietly and sincerely, “Thank you.”

 

Orana bowed and excused herself from the room.  “Drink some of your tea,” Hawke suggested quietly.  “It will take some of the chill off,” he added, and hoped that it was chill and not nerves that made the boy’s hands shake.  But deep within his heart he knew that it wasn’t.

 

“Of course, sir,” the boy whispered, and sipped at the tea.  His hands were still shaking badly enough that Hawke though the tea might spill over, but once he’d taken a sip or two, his hands steadied.  All at once the child seemed to relax into the chair, and Hawke let out a soundless sigh of relief.  “Thank you, sir,” the boy whispered.

 

“Please, call me Hawke,” Hawke begged.  The ‘sir’ made him feel like he was due to be getting grey hairs.  Or like he was with Kirkwall’s nobility.  Neither image was particularly appealing.  Hawke was many, many things, but a ‘sir’ was not one of them.  And never would be, if he had his way.

 

“Yes sir... Hawke,” Harry offered.  “I had a... I had a pretty okay childhood,” the boy finally ventured, apparently willing to begin telling his story now that he’d settled down a bit.  “It wasn’t exactly what you might say was the best, but it wasn’t the worst.  My guardians didn’t hit me or anything, but they didn’t care much for me either.  Last year, though, I did something that I don’t think they’ll forgive me for and I didn’t want to chance staying with them this summer.  So like I said, it’s just a place to stay for the summer that I need.”

 

Hawke’s eyes narrowed.  He definitely smelled a rat in this.  “What did you do that was so unforgivable?” he asked, not sure that he could believe that this timid little thing would do anything terrible.

 

“Iblewupmyaunt,” Harry said so quickly that it took Hawke a moment to puzzle it out.

 

When he did, he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.  “You blew up your Aunt?” he asked, incredulous.  “With what?”

 

“I mean, she turned into a sort-of balloon,” Harry clarified awkwardly.  “She was insulting... she was saying awful things about my mother, and I just sort of lost my temper.  I didn’t mean to or anything, it just kind of happened.  But I’m still not sorry I did it,” Harry added, defiantly.

 

Oddly enough, it was that spark of defiance that made Hawke feel better about this whole thing.  “Good for you,” he said with a small grin.  When Harry looked surprised, Hawke said, “I’d murder anybody who insulted my mother, so I’m impressed by your restraint.”

 

Harry offered him a shy, sweet little smile, and Hawke was hit suddenly by a sense of possibility.  Here was a young child in need of his care.  A child who presented a chance to maybe do a better job of looking after a youth than he’d done with his own sibling.  A chance to do things right the second time around, as it were.  Carver still would barely talk to him and he’d been with the Grey Wardens for almost six years.  But this was a new chance, and one that Hawke thought that maybe he could finally do right with.

 

Hawke just knew that he was going to regret this, but, “Okay, kid, you and your dog can stay.”

 

Harry looked surprised.  “Don’t you want some kind of proof?  I brought the tapestry I mentioned; it’s in my bag,” the boy offered.

 

Hawke shook his head.  “Look, you’re either really my relative, in which case I’m honor bound to look after you.  In which case I want to look after you, even.  Or, you’re a damned fine con-artist, in which case you’ll be an excellent addition to my already insane and eccentric band of misfits.  One way or another, you and your dog are welcome to stay with me,” Hawke said cheerfully.  Anders was going to kill him.  Then, after a moment’s thought, he added, “ For as long as you need, not just the summer.”

 

Harry lunged forward and flung his arms around Hawke, quite surprising to the Mage who fought down an instinctive fireball.  “Not generally a good idea to startle a Combat-Mage,” Hawke pointed out even as he gently patted the boy on the back.  Maker, the child was thin.

 

“Thank you,” Harry whispered in his ear.

 

It was late, after Harry had settled back into his chair and finished his tea, after Hawke had settled the boy into the couch on the study because the only other unoccupied bedroom in the house was currently uninhabitable and filled with his mother’s things still, and Hawke was getting ready to blow out the candles and bid the boy goodnight that the boy asked quietly, “What if my dog is really my godfather who’s wanted Outrealm for a crime that he didn’t commit?”

 

Hawke froze, the candles in the room partially burned out.  He said with a cheer that he didn’t really feel, “Then I guess it’s a good thing that he’s in Thedas and not Outrealm.  We don’t extradite.”

 

“Oh.  Good,” the boy said sleepily.

 

“Harry, is he?” Hawke asked, not really sure he wanted to know.  The boy was already asleep, so Hawke turned to the dog.  “Are you?” he asked him, grateful that he was Ferelden and was used to treating dogs as though they were intelligent.  Otherwise, he might feel like an idiot right about then.

 

The dog chuffed out a laugh and nodded, his mouth opening and tongue lolling out in a doggy grin.

 

Hawke closed his eyes and considered how to deal with that.  Finally, he settled on, “Right.  Did you want a bed, then, or a couch, or are you okay on the rug in front of the fire?”  Seriously, he was going to feel like an idiot tomorrow if Harry told him he’d just been playing and the dog was just very well trained.

 

The dog lay his head back down on his paws and curled up into a ball in front of Harry’s couch, Harry’s hand tangling in his fur as though the boy was trying to reassure himself that the dog was still there.  

 

Hawke thought it was adorable, and also that it meant that the dog was fine where he was.

 

He left the room with a headache forming.  As he went to bed, he wondered once more if maybe he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.  And as he dropped back into an uneasy sleep of his own, he hoped that Anders wasn’t so surprised that the boy was still there that he killed the child when he came up from the clinic in the morning.  Maybe he should have left a note...


	2. Chapter One: The First Summer

Harry woke up confused.

 

He wasn’t at Hogwarts anymore, he knew that right away.  He didn’t sleep on a couch at Hogwarts.  He wasn’t in his room at the Dursleys’, either, because the couch was more comfortable than his bed.  And he didn’t sleep on the couch there, either.  Nor was he sleeping on a couch at either the Burrow or the Leaky Cauldron.  Where was he, and what was that fur doing under his... oh.

 

“Padfoot?” he whispered, and his godfather responded with a soft rumble of noise.  Harry let his fingers tangle briefly in his godfather’s fur once more before he sat up slowly.

 

That was it.  He was Outrealm, in Thedas.  Kirkwall, specifically, staying with his father’s cousin’s eldest son, Serel Hawke.  Who lived in a mansion and apparently wasn’t put off by Harry pointing a weapon at him.  Had, apparently, been amused by the whole mess.  Harry sort of wondered what that said about the kind of life his... his cousin lead.

 

“You finally awake, then, sleepy head?” came said cousin’s chipper voice.

 

Harry startled.  He wondered how late he’d slept, and what the punishment would be.  And then he registered that a question had been asked and he swiftly responded with a, “Yes sir.”  He wondered what Hawke would require of him to allow him to stay.  He should have thought to ask last night, but he’d been so very tired.  Besides,whatever it was, he didn’t think it would be as bad as things had been at the Dursley residence.

 

It hadn’t just been the incident with Aunt Marge that had sent Harry fleeing the repugnant family.  Harry felt awful about not telling Hawke the truth, but how could he?  What had happened was awful, of course, and who would want to take on a burden like him if they knew how damaged he was?  Oh, it hadn’t been as bad as all that with the Dursleys.  They’d made him do unreasonable amounts of chores, and they’d never fed him the way that they should have, and Dudley had beaten him quite severely sometimes, but that was it.  It could have been worse.  But Harry couldn’t risk not being able to stay.  So what had happened was none of anybody’s business.  Not even Sirius knew.

 

“So, here’s the thing, kid.  Kirkwall’s a pretty dangerous city at the best of times, and Maker knows we haven’t been in the best of times for a very long time.  The way I see it, you have two options.  The first is that you can hang out here in the manor all day where I can at least assume that you’ll be safe most of the time.  People don’t generally fuck with my house, considering how very dangerous I am.  The second is that you can come out with me and cause mischief and mayhem with myself and my minions,” the mage said, leaning casually against his staff.

 

Harry hesitated.  “Is this... is this a trick question, sir?” he finally asked.  Why would he want to stay in a dusty old manor when he could be out adventuring?  Never let it be said that Harry wasn’t the adventurous sort, after all.  There was a reason he’d wound up in Gryffindor.

 

“Didn’t I ask you to call me Hawke?” his cousin asked, a trace of irritability coloring his tone.  “No, I mean, I know you aren’t a trained fighter or anything like that, but between me and mine we can fix that up real fast.  And the best way to learn is by doing, so if you come with me you’ll learn fast.  You certainly look light enough on your feet to learn from either Varric or Isabela, or Sebastian if you really want to learn how to be a pious a...”  Hawke stopped, then cleared his throat.  “Pardon me.  Strike that last bit.  You can learn from either Varric or Isabela easily.”

 

Harry considered.  “I already have a weapon,” he pointed out, and drew his wand in emphasis.  “I mean, I’m not the best with it, I’m only just entering my fourth year, but I’m not that bad.  I can cast a mean  _ patronus _ charm.”

 

Hawke frowned.  “I...have no idea what that means.  And to be honest, I’m not entirely sure what Outrealm magic can really do.  I’d prefer it if you’re able to fight in a way that I recognize, although you can certainly use your wand to supplement.  Besides, we can never have too many rogues.  Never.  But if you don’t want to learn to fight, well, that’s fine, but I will leave you here with Bodahn and Oranna.  And your dog.”  Hawke paused, then, and eyed Padfoot rather suspiciously, then continued with, “And this certainly isn’t a one-off kind of thing.  If you’re going to be here all summer, well, you have plenty of time to change your mind.”

 

Harry considered the matter at hand.  And then he thought about how useful actually being able to use a weapon would have been during any one of his adventures in the last three years and said, “No, I mean, with the way that my school years have been going, I’d really be better off learning to fight with a weapon.  You’re right.  And there really isn’t much choice to be had between adventuring and being bored.”  As he spoke, Harry had to fight down a feeling of disbelief.  This summer was almost sounding like it could be fun.  Harry might even have a good time this summer.

 

Hawke was watching him, his blue eyes wrinkled in confusion.  “Are Outrealm schools that dangerous?” he asked.

 

“No, si... Hawke.  But I seem to have the worst luck.  My first Defense teacher tried to kill me, in my second year I fought a giant basilisk, and in my third there were these soul-sucking monsters and one of the professors turned out to be a werewolf which wouldn’t have been such a bad thing if he hadn’t forgotten to take his Wolfsbane the one night of the full moon...”  Harry had to stop, then, and take a deep breath.  He ducked his head under his cousin’s rather incredulous gaze.

 

“Right.  So, yes, definitely fighting for you.  No longer an option.  And, like I said, I’m thinking you look like a rogue, and we’ve already got two archers, so I’m thinking you look like daggers.  Sparkly, shiny, pointy bits of metal.  What say you?”  Hawke asked, and Harry flinched because the smile on his face was now clearly forced.

 

Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything, to apologize for unnerving his cousin or to agree or to do something, when his stomach growled long and loud.  Weakly, Harry said, “Learning to fight with daggers sounds good?”  He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, but he wasn’t surprised.  He hadn’t eaten since he’d left Hogwarts, after all.  There hadn’t been time.  But he’d gone for longer without food in summers past.  It would just be a matter of getting used to it again, that was all.

 

“Of course, fighting requires energy which requires fuel which means that you need to eat.  Or was that a darkspawn in your stomach?” Hawke asked, his tone finally regaining some of cheer that Harry had quickly realized was a part of his cousin.

 

“I don’t... what’s a darkspawn?” Harry asked, even as his cousin snagged his arm and dragged him gently from the study where Harry had spent the night.  He was a little more relaxed, now that it was clear that his cousin was, in fact, going to feed him before the adventuring could begin.

 

“Ahh, darkspawn.  They’re... monsters.  We’ll go with monsters.  Their blood is toxic and they like to eat humans.  Be glad that you don’t have them Outrealm.  They’re annoying little shits, and when they’re not little they’re even worse.”  Hawke paused, obviously considering, then he said, “But enough about that.  Darkspawn are not conducive to a healthy appetite.”   
  
“You could say that again.  Hawke, are we keeping the miniature?” the scruffy man from last night asked, eyeing Harry warily.

 

“He’s family, Anders!  How could I turn him away?” Hawke asked cheerfully.

 

“He could be a con-artist,” the other, apparently Anders, pointed out.  He didn’t sound accusing, though, and Harry could agree that it was a valid point.  He absolutely could be a con-artist.

 

“In which case he’ll make an excellent addition to our band of madmen.  And mad elves.  And mad dwarves.  Or just the one dwarf.”  Hawke got a pained look on his face.  “Oh, Maker, I’ve gone and got two more.”

 

“Are you really counting the boy’s dog?” Anders asked, even as they settled around what seemed to be an absolutely delicious looking feast.  “I know that we’re Ferelden and all, Hawke, but that might be taking things a bit far.”

 

“We are Ferelden,” Hawke said cheerfully, “But no, I was counting Harry’s godfather, assuming that Harry wasn’t playing a fantastic joke last night.”

 

Harry froze.  “I told you about Sirius?” he squeaked.  He couldn’t remember that conversation at all; it must have happened after he’d been asleep.  He glanced down at the dog, whose head was currently in his lap, and wondered why Sirius hadn’t stopped him from opening his big mouth.  He couldn’t believe that he’d done that.

 

“You did,” his cousin confirmed.  “Although I confess that I’m not entirely certain how he’s a dog.  Or why he’s still a dog.  Does he just not like us?”  There was a bit of offense in his cousin’s tone, and Harry fought down a smile.

 

“I don’t think he’s used to being around people anymore,” Harry offered shyly.  “And I think he’s concerned that he smells a bit off.  He hasn’t really been able to take a bath or anything for a while.  It’s been a few days since we left Hogwarts, and the world Outrealm isn’t exactly safe for him.”

 

Hawke frowned, tilted his head in consideration, then shrugged.  “Doubt it’ll be the worst I’ve smelled,” his cousin said pragmatically, “and I’d like to meet the man.  So he can join us if he’d like.”  There was a cheerful smile on his face as he spoke the last bit, his frown vanishing as though it had never been.

 

Harry was starting to wonder if maybe his cousin was crazy.  Nobody could be that cheerful all the time.  But before he could voice his question, which was probably a good thing because it wasn’t a very polite question, Sirius had shifted back to his human form.  Of course, he’d forgotten to come out from under the table, so there was a loud ‘thunk’ as his head struck it.

 

Harry couldn’t help his laughter at the muffled curses that followed.

 

“‘m okay,” his godfather said as he emerged from beneath the table.  He was every bit as thin and ragged as Harry had remembered, and he didn’t smell quite right, but Harry couldn’t stop himself from smiling.  Sirius was the first adult ever that actually wanted to keep him.  Harry would forgive a lot for that.

 

Sirius’ smile was brittle, like broken glass, but it was there.  Harry couldn’t imagine what it had been like, spending over a decade with the dementors, and wasn’t at all surprised that there was a bit of glass in Sirius’ smile.  “Sure you don’t mind me being here, human, and reeking?” Sirius asked Hawke.

 

“No problem,” Hawke answered easily.  “And while your godson is out learning how to adventure properly, you, sir, are definitely taking a bath.  Because while I don’t mind the rather... rancid smell you’re putting off for one meal, we’re not dealing with it on a daily basis.”  Hawke’s smile, even when his nose was wrinkling at Sirius’ scent, never disappeared.

 

“Do you ever stop smiling?” Harry blurted out, then his eyes widened in horror.  He couldn’t believe he’d just asked that.  How much of an idiot could he be?  That had been so rude.  The Dursleys hadn’t taught him much, but they’d taught him better than that.

 

“When he stops smiling, run like hell the other way,” Anders said cheerfully, “because things are about to get a little crazy.  I think the only two times I’ve seen him not smiling were when Varric’s brother abandoned us in the Deep Roads, and when he went head to head with the Arishok over Isabela.”

 

Hawke stopped smiling then as he clearly considered what Anders had said.  Finally, mildly, he pointed out, “I’m pretty sure that I don’t grin like a maniac all the time when we’re having sex.”

 

While Anders sputtered in response, Harry burst into startled giggles, followed by Sirius’ rather raucous barking laughter.  The rest of breakfast passed swiftly and far more cheerily than any other breakfast in Harry’s memory.  It was fantastic.

 

He really had made the best decision ever when he’d come to Kirkwall to live with his cousin.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Hawke had given him two long, wickedly sharp daggers before he, Anders, and Harry had set off.  Harry had handled them carefully and placed them back in the sheaths Hawke provided pretty much as soon as Hawke told him it was okay to do so.  He wasn’t at all confident in his ability to hold off anybody with the two very pointy bits of metal.  He just didn’t know how.

 

And then they were off, and it hadn’t escaped Harry’s notice at all that both Hawke and Anders worked very hard to keep Harry between them as they wandered through the city.  When Harry stopped to stare at something, both of them stopped with him and chuckled indulgently.  Each time it happened he was allowed only a few moments to look before the both of them began hustling him along a bit nervously.  Harry wondered what they were so frightened of.  It was broad daylight, after all, and who would attack in broad daylight in a crowded street?

 

“And, we’re here,” Hawke said cheerfully.

 

Harry blinked.  The manor before them was... well, it was a manor.  But it had fallen into disrepair some time ago, obviously.  Several of the windows had been busted out and had never been replaced, and the whole manor gave off this strange feeling of doom.  It wasn’t quite as bad as the Shrieking Shack had been, but it certainly wasn’t anywhere Harry would want to spend a great deal of time.

 

“What exactly is here?” Harry asked hesitantly.  They were standing pretty much right in front of the decrepit manor and Harry couldn’t quite figure out why.

 

“Your bodyguard is here, as a matter of fact,” Hawke said cheerfully.  “Because we can’t watch over you and watch out for enemies at the same time.”

 

Harry’s first instinct was to protest; he was more than capable of taking care of himself, after all.  But then he considered.  He didn’t really know anything about Kirkwall, other than that his cousin lived there.  And he’d almost been attacked the night before when he’d been on his way to see his cousin, so could he really say that the city was safe?  Not to mention, he had no idea how to use the daggers he’d been gifted.  So he probably shouldn’t protest the necessity of a bodyguard.  “That makes sense,” he grumbled.  He didn’t like it, but it made sense.

 

“Oh, good, thank you so much for not fighting me on this one,” Hawke said, and opened the door to the decrepit manor.  It, of course, creaked ominously.

 

...and there was a corpse in the foyer.  Just sitting there, waiting for Harry to trip over it.  And wasn’t that a little creepy?  Not to mention, why was it even there?  “Corpse?” he managed to squeak out with a vaguely inquiring tone.

 

“Oh, yeah, mind the corpses.  They’re rotting, you might catch something, please don’t touch them,” Hawke said.

 

“Why... why are they here?” Harry managed.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  Who keeps corpses just lying around?”

 

“Fenris,” Anders answered.  “But don’t worry.  His snarl is worse than his bite.  Although, actually, his bite is pretty vicious too.”

 

“Are you calling me a dog, Mage?” a low voice snarled from the shadows, startling Harry.

 

“If the collar fits, elf,” Anders shot back, a nasty smirk on his face.  Harry frowned.  He hadn’t realized the mage had a nasty side to him.  He’d seemed so nice over breakfast.

 

“Anders.  Fenris,” Hawke bit out, the smile on his face slipping just a bit.

 

Honestly, it was the first time that Harry had so much as heard irritation in his cousin’s voice, not to even mention the frown almost appearing on Hawke’s face.  He thought maybe he would be okay without having to hear or see either again in this particular context.  It was a little bit unnerving.

 

“What can I do for you, Hawke?” that deep voice, presumably belonging to Fenris, asked.  The coolest being that Harry had ever seen stepped from the shadows and into the light.  The elf had sharp features and white hair, but what really drew Harry’s gaze were the striking tattoos etched along his skin.  The elf’s lips curled into a sneer when he caught Harry staring at him.  “Problem, child?” he asked.

 

Harry was embarrassed by the squeak he let out when addressed directly.  “No sir,” he said, and ducked his head.  He dared to peek up through his eyelashes, only to find Fenris still glowering at him.  He dropped his gaze immediately.

 

“Now, Fenris, that’s no way to treat your new charge,” Hawke said cheerfully.  “He’s an absolute sweetheart.  Just look at that adorable face.”

 

“Absolutely not, Hawke!” he protested.  Harry looked up to find that Fenris had switched over to glaring at Hawke, his fist clenching and unclenching in what appeared to be rage.  “I am neither a babysitter nor a guard dog!”

 

Harry flinched at the venom in the elf’s tone.  It wasn’t like it wasn’t something he was used to, being unwanted.  The Dursleys had certainly never wanted him around, so he was quite used to having his presence forced upon people.  But so far, everyone had been so nice.  He hadn’t been prepared for the utter poison in the elf’s tone at the idea of looking after Harry.  Maybe he shouldn’t have come.  Maybe this had been a mistake.

 

His cousin cut him a sharp look and then said, “But Fenris, I’d like to turn him into our mascot!” in the most bright and cheerful voice Harry had heard from him yet.  It was sort of overly perky, in fact.  “He’ll follow us everywhere, and everyone will recognize him, and so he’ll need somebody to take care of him until he can take care of himself!”  And while his words and tone were quite jovial, and the smile had certainly not fallen from his face, Hawke’s eyes were sharp enough to cut through stone.

 

Fenris, apparently, got the message.  He scowled but ground out, “The things that I do for you, Hawke.”  He shifted to stand next to Harry, then, and Harry fought the urge to shift away awkwardly.

 

“You’re a good man, Fenris,” Hawke said cheerfully, acting as though there was no tension present within the room whatsoever.  “So, I’ve got a little job lined up for us!  Why don’t we go and collect Isabela, see if maybe she can’t teach Harry a little bit about taking care of himself, and then maybe we head off and hunt down a few Qunari swords?  I’ve got word on a bit of coin available for the taking!”

 

“Don’t we have enough coin already?” Anders asked as they made their way out of the decrepit manor.

 

“Anders!  Bite your tongue my good man.  We can never have too much coin!” Hawke said merrily.  “Harry, first lesson.  There is no such thing as too much coin!  Got that?”

 

Harry laughed.  “I certainly never thought there could be,” he answered, his mood lifting.  He was going on an adventure, how could he not have fun with that?  No matter that there was a surly elf guarding him, he could handle that.  And who knew?  Maybe Fenris would come around eventually.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry had never been in a bar quite like this one before.  For one thing, he’d never seen a giant suit of armor hanging upside down by its feet.  It made for an interesting introduction to the most notorious tavern in Kirkwall.  The people inside seemed infinitely more... colorful than they did at the Leaky Cauldron, but that might simply be because some of them were actually drinking with what seemed to be the intention of getting drunk and staying that way.  Harry hadn’t ever actually been around people drinking to be drunk.  That had never been one of the Dursley’s vices.

 

And then Hawke and Fenris were ushering him through the lower level of the bar and up the stairs, and there was a group of people seated around a table playing what looked to be a card game:  a female elf with short brown hair and an adorable face, a dwarf with an earring and short hair pulled into a ponytail, and a scantily clad human woman with long dark hair.

 

Harry immediately wanted to return to the decrepit mansion from earlier when the woman spotted him and let out an unearthly squeal.  “Oh, Hawke, you’ve brought me a cabin boy of my very own,” she gushed.  She stood, then, and swayed over to Harry, revealing that she wasn’t actually wearing any pants.  “Isn’t he just precious?”

 

Harry, already more than a little unnerved just by the setting of this odd meeting, took a nervous step back.  He felt a hand at the small of his back, steadying him, but when he whipped his head around to look at Fenris the elf was paying him no attention whatsoever.

 

Hawke, meanwhile, was chuckling.  Harry sort of hated his cousin in that moment.  Just a little bit.  “Actually, I kinda did Isabela,” Hawke said brightly.  “This is my baby cousin.  He’ll be staying with me for a few months, and I thought that maybe you might be the dear that you are and teach him a little bit about stabbing people in the back.  You know, just to keep him safe and all.”

 

“Hmm,” Isabela hummed thoughtfully as she paced in a circle around him.  Harry shifted uneasily while she was behind him.  The woman made him wary for some reason, and he didn’t like having her out of his sight.  “He’s certainly got the build to be a rogue like me,” she murmured, thoughtful and serious.  She studied Harry’s face for a moment, then, once she’d made it back around.

 

Quite abruptly she lunged at him, her dagger coming up.  Harry’s hand found his wand and he had it pointed squarely between her eyes before she’d even made two steps in.  It didn’t waver.

 

“Nice reflexes,” Isabela said cheerfully, “Although I don’t quite know what you’re going to do with that stick, Precious.  It isn’t good for much at all, unless you’re going to use it for-”

 

“He’s thirteen,” Hawke interrupted irritably.

 

Isabela blinked and her lips curled into a slow smile.  “And if you think that thirteen year olds don’t-”

 

“He’s my cousin, and he doesn’t,” Hawke interrupted, eyes dark and narrowed in threat.

 

“Hawke, not to interrupt your grand scheme or anything, but do you really think keeping the kid is the best idea?” the dwarf asked with a frown.  Harry thought that maybe his face looked a little uncomfortable like that, like maybe he wasn’t used to frowning.

 

“Varric, your doubts wound me!  That’s why I’ve got Fenris assigned as his bodyguard.  What could possibly go wrong with something like this?”  Hawke’s grin didn’t drop as he added, “Besides, he’s family.  And we all know that family looks after family, right?”

 

Varric shifted and said, “I guess. But Hawke, your life is a dangerous one.  Do you really think that getting a kid involved is a wise idea?”

 

“Wise idea?” Hawke asked, then looked around the room as though puzzled.  “I like how you confuse me for somebody who has wise ideas.  C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

 

The female elf frowned.  “Hawke, wasn’t that what you said about trying to figure out what was wrong with the Bone Pit a few years ago?  And didn’t we run into the undead and giant spiders?”

 

Hawke’s grin didn’t even waver.  “And wasn’t it fun, Merrill?” the mage asked.

 

“Well, no, not really.  It was sort of gory.  And the undead made those awful noises.  I heard them for weeks after the fact.”  She wrinkled her nose, then, and added, “And I never did get the smell out of the underclothes I was wearing that day.  I had to burn them.”

 

“And that’s enough of that conversation, Kitten,” Isabela interrupted before she could continue.  Which was great, because Harry’s cheeks were flaming violently at the thought of a girl’s underclothes.

 

“And so, my point is made.  In a roundabout fashion, yes, but made nonetheless.  Hawke, your life is just too dangerous for a kid to be involved.  At least, when it comes to adventuring.  Staying safe in Hightown?  Sure.  But I wouldn’t take him out with you.”

 

And that just sounded like one more prison for Harry to be stuck in.  That was so not happening.  “You know, the life that I lead is pretty dangerous.  It seems like every year somebody’s trying to kill me, and I’m still here,” Harry snapped.  He was tired of adults who thought he was helpless when he’d already killed a basilisk and fought off hundreds of dementors.  And killed his first year DADA teacher, but he wasn’t counting Quirrell.  He hadn’t meant to do that, after all.

 

Varric let out a startled laugh.  “Well then, I guess you’ll fit right in with the rest of us, won’t you?” the dwarf muttered, shaking his head.  “Hawke, you have the most interesting family.”

 

“Yes, yes I do.  Now, we’re wasting daylight.  Isabela, what do you say?  Train your own cabin boy, find some Qunari swords, maybe make a bit of coin while we’re at it?”

 

Isabela opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and shook her head.  “No, no, that’s too easy a shot.  Hunting for Qunari swords?  Sure, Hawke.  And I’ll try to keep my dirtier jokes about Qunari swords to a minimum around your dear cousin.”

 

Hawke and Varric both burst into rowdy laughter while Merrill looked confused and Fenris rolled his eyes.  Harry didn’t get the joke at all, but he thought maybe he might be too young.  He would probably get it when he was older.  Of course, he wasn’t entirely certain that he really wanted to be able to understand the joke in question.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

One week into his training with Isabela, one week into his trying his hardest not to kill himself with the pointed instruments of death that his cousin insisted he learn to work with, Harry woke up relatively certain that he was going to die.  This was most likely an exaggeration, but right about then it didn’t feel like much of one to Harry.

 

He sat up and immediately regretted it.  His head was throbbing, the room was spinning, and his body felt suspiciously like he’d gone a few rounds with Fluffy and lost miserably.  He let out a groan of pain and flopped back on the bed, and immediately regretted that as well.

 

What had he done last night, anyway?  He remembered clearing out a group of Bloodragers, and then finding the information that led to their leader, Jakeson Hall.  The fight had been intense, but they’d won eventually.  Hawke had taken the group to the Hanged Man to celebrate, and after his first taste of the most disgusting, vile thing ever, everything went curiously blank.

 

“So, now you know what it feels like to drink too much!” his godfather said brightly, loudly.  The sound of Sirius’ voice was like nails on a chalkboard and Harry let out a groan and covered his face with his pillow.  This was just not fun.

 

“Not only that, but now he knows why he was given the instruction to always stretch before going to bed.”  Fenris was there as well.  That was just lovely.

 

“Can I just die?” Harry croaked.  “Seriously, can I just fall on my own pointy instrument of death?  It might feel a little bit better if you would just let me do that.”

 

Sirius laughed, the sound loud and painful to Harry’s overly sensitive ears.  “Harry, dearest godson, it is my solemn duty as your godfather to not only not allow you to die from this, but to make absolutely certain that the morning of your very first hangover goes as badly as possible,” Sirius said with all the tone of a promise.

 

“I’m just here to make sure you get to Isabela in time for your lesson,” Fenris said, the smug rolling off of him even if he couldn’t see his surly bodyguard.

 

“I can’t even move; you want me to go play with the knives?” Harry asked plaintively.  “You’re all mean and I hate you both very much.”

 

The covers were ripped from his body and Sirius answered cheerfully, “You don’t hate us, oh-hungover-one.  And maybe, just maybe, next time you’ll listen to your guard when he tells you to stop drinking next time.”

 

Harry groaned and opened his eyes just enough to glower at his smirking godfather.  The anger lasted until his dear, sweet godfather presented him with a plate of food, swimming in grease.  Then Harry was too busy throwing up to be angry at much of anything.  He was never drinking again.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Later in that first week, Harry scrunched his summer Potions essay into a little ball and flung it into the flames of Hawke’s fireplace with a snarl of rage.  He slammed his book shut and glowered down at it, wanting to throw the damned text into the fire as well.  It was useless.  It made no sense.  He hated the class and really just didn’t want to take it anymore.  He hated Snape, who never explained much of anything.  He hated the Slytherins who liked to throw things into his cauldron to see the different ways it exploded.  And he really hated the dry, ridiculous, nonsensical book he was being forced to read for a class he didn’t understand.

 

“Well, that was a little unnecessarily violent.  Did the paper do something to offend you?” Anders asked, looking up from his own desk.  Hawke never used his study, but he’d been quick to give Harry a small desk in there.  At first Harry had wondered why he needed his own desk if Hawke was never in the study, but he’d quickly realized that just because Hawke wouldn’t use it didn’t mean that Anders wouldn’t.  And despite the fact that by now they’d spent several hours working in silence together in the study, Harry had never really spoken much to him.  The mage normally kept to himself, and Harry generally didn’t bother him because, hello, possessed mages were scary things.

 

“It exists,” Harry answered grimly.  “Do you think I could get away with stabbing my textbook?” he asked thoughtfully.  “I could say that it jumped out at me and tried to kill me like my Care of Magical Creatures book last year.”

 

Anders’ expression scrunched into dubious thoughtfulness.  “I think that your godfather would realize that didn’t actually happen,” he answered.  “I mean, I could be wrong and all, but he seems like a pretty smart guy.”

 

“He is,” Harry said mournfully.  “But he wouldn’t blame me.  He knows the teacher I have to put up with.  He wouldn’t care.  He’d probably support an organized protest.”  Harry considered what he’d just said and added, “Or a disorganized one, for that matter.  Maybe the disorganized more than the organized in fact.”

 

“What is this subject that’s taught so terribly?” Anders asked, and Harry had the distinct impression that the mage was laughing at him.

 

That was okay.  As long as Anders was laughing he wasn’t about to kill him.  Hopefully.  “Potions,” he said, with the most venom he could possibly shove into his voice.

 

“Potions?” Anders repeated, just a bit incredulous.  “Really, all this stress over brewing potions?  What are you trying to do, make the Elixer of Heroism?”

 

Harry groaned.  “I don’t even know what that is but it sounds awful.  Please don’t give my teacher any ideas.  And no, we’re just writing about a potion.  But Potions as a class just doesn’t make any sense.  So this assignment doesn’t make any sense.”  Harry frowned and added, “At least, not to me.  My one friend, Hermione, is probably already finished it.”

 

“You know, I doubt they’re the same thing, but I have dabbled in a bit of Herbalism.  Why don’t you let me take a look at that for you?” the mage asked, coming over to lift up Harry’s third year Potions text.

 

Harry considered, then decided that Anders certainly couldn’t hurt his understanding of Potions at all.  “I would be very, very grateful if you would take a look,” he said finally.  “Maybe tell me a little bit that Snape seems to think we should all know instinctively.  Like, really, what is the difference between dicing and chopping?  Isn’t it all the same?”

 

Anders let out a groan.  “Okay, no, see, there’s a problem right there.  Let me go over some of the basic theory and terminology, let me study your book, and maybe tomorrow Hawke can loan you and Fenris to me and we can do some hands-on work in the clinic.  We’ll see how that goes, and then we can go from there.”

 

Harry thought that maybe he would wind up owing Anders a bit of his soul before this summer was over, if only the mage could figure out how to make Potions just a little bit more easy on him.  If so, the price was one that he was well-willing to pay.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Kirkwall, Harry had come to realize in the past three weeks, was insane.  It was a mad, wild, beautiful town with some of the most colorful people he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.  It was ever-flowing, ever-changing, and every time Harry thought he had a handle on the politics of the place, somebody new tried to kill his cousin.  Despite that insanity, this was the best summer that Harry had ever had and he still had a full month to go.

 

“You know, I resent the fact that you’re grinning while people are trying to kill us!” Hawke shouted over the roar of battle.

 

Harry cackled madly and darted behind one of the cultists, slitting their throat with an ease he’d never thought to have.  “If you’d stop dragging me out at night and getting us ambushed, Hawke, I wouldn’t unnerve you so!” he called back.

 

He’d always been a quick study when it came to staying alive, and between Varric and Isabela he’d been picking locks and slitting throats in no time at all.  That didn’t mean, of course, that he was allowed to go anywhere by himself.  Fenris still followed him everywhere, despite the fact that Harry was now more than capable of taking care of himself.  Hawke apparently wasn’t willing to risk losing another family member, and Harry couldn’t honestly say that he minded much.  It was kind of nice to have someone like Hawke worrying over him, and it wasn’t as though having Fenris follow him around was a hardship.  For some reason he always seemed to get better deals at the markets when the elf was present.

 

“No, not really, because I’ve seen you slitting throats in the daylight too!” Hawke called as he fired off a fireball.  “That’s even worse, because then I can see you grinning as you slice and dice men twice your size!”

 

“What can I say, Hawke?  I’m a great teacher!” Isabela crowed from where she was perched on the steps, watching the flow of battle.  “Always going for the throat, just like I taught him!” she added as Harry went for another one of the idiotic cultists.  Seriously, why did people get themselves involved with messes like this?

 

“You could be helping!” Harry shouted as he ducked under a not-so-friendly bit of fire from Hawke’s general direction.  Really, he could be a little bit more careful with the fireballs he was slinging so carelessly.  He’d almost taken off Harry’s head with that one.  

 

Then he yelped as he was struck from behind by what felt suspiciously like an ice spell of some sort.  Oh, so Hawke had actually been aiming when he’d shot off that spell.  He turned, knives up, and found Fenris between the mage and himself, the lyrium in his skin glowing blue, his fist in the attacker’s chest.

 

Harry winced when Fenris ripped the poor man’s heart out.  It was really no worse than what he’d been doing with his knives, but somehow it felt far more violent.  Yes, either way somebody ended up dead, but at least the one way seemed much faster.  And Harry hated it when Fenris did that to keep him safe.  The instances had been fewer in recent days than when he’d first begun in Kirkwall, but they still happened.

 

“Make sure that you watch your back as well as your front,” Fenris said gravely as the battle wound down around them.  “I won’t always be here to watch your back, child.”

 

“And yet, you’ve never let someone get more than one hit on me,” Harry pointed out cheerfully, “so I’ve little incentive to focus on my back.”  For all that the surly elf seemed to dislike him, seemed to resent his assignment, he’d always been at Harry’s back in the past three weeks.  It really was comforting to have the elf around all the time.

 

“Was that a hint that you wanted me to stop watching your back?” the elf asked.

 

Before Harry could respond, Isabela swayed over to him.  “And you were doing so well before that, Precious,” she sighed.  “Back to the practice ring for you tomorrow, then.”  She and Hawke began the laborious, and disgusting, task of looting the bodies.

 

Harry grimaced, but started to help with said disgusting task.  “Yeah, well, not even you watch your own back all the time,” he pointed out, feeling just a bit smug.

 

Isabela glowered at him.  “The apprentice saves his master just  _ once _ from an uppity idiot with a sword and suddenly thinks he’s invincible,” she said.  “What trouble this apprentice you’ve saddled me with is, Hawke.”

 

“Don’t blame me for him.  I didn’t bring him up, and I know that you love the trouble,” Hawke answered cheerfully.  “Ooh, look at all of these lovely shiny bits getting ready to make their homes in our purses!”

 

“And you expect me to be anything other than trouble with that as my model?” Harry asked, jerking his head in Hawke’s direction as they finished up with the looting.  Hawke was right; these idiots had indeed had a fair amount of coin on their person.

 

They made their way back to the Hanged Man, then, a place that Harry had swiftly gotten used to.  And no, he’d never drank so much again in the weeks since his first adventure with a hangover.  If he had his way, that adventure would be the last of its kind.  Even if it was incredibly hard to follow his self-imposed rule.  The patrons all really seemed to like him, and they delighted in buying him drinks.  Or Hawke had told them to do it, one way or another, it resulted in his having a lot of drinks purchased for him on any given night.  Maybe it amused them to see a child trying not to get drunk?  He typically gave them to Hawke, which, now that he was thinking about it, might be why Hawke had encouraged the patrons, assuming that he had.  Knowing Hawke, he had.

 

“You know, I should be more concerned by the way that my godson always comes back with bloodstains all over his clothing when he travels with you,” Sirius pointed out from where he was engaged in a card game with Varric, Merrill, and Anders.  Harry didn’t even have to guess to know who was winning.

 

“You’re just jealous,” Harry chirped as he perched on the empty chair next to Sirius.  He studied his godfather’s hand and winced theatrically.  “What exactly are you planning on doing with that mess of nothing, anyway?” he asked.

 

Sirius threw the cards down on the table.  “Well, I was going to try and bluff, but now I guess I’m folding,” Sirius said with a sigh.  He shot Harry a wicked glare.  “You’re lucky we weren’t playing for anything, brat,” he added with an affectionate little smile.

 

“He likes us better than you,” Varric said cheerfully.  “That’s why Lightning always tells us what your hands are.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” Harry said doubtfully.  “Merrill keeps calling me adorable, and that’s not really a word that any teenage boy wants to hear applied to their person.  And Sirius never calls me that.”

 

“So wait, are you saying that if I start calling you adorable that you’ll help me with this damned game?” Sirius asked as he studied the cards he’d tossed on the table.

 

“Furball, I don’t think there’s anything in the world that can help you with this game.  Blondie’s better than you,” Varric pointed out with a chuckle, even as he swept all the cards back into a neat little pile and started shuffling them once more.

 

“Thank you!” Anders said, and then cocked his head to one side and added, dubiously, “I think.”

 

“It’s okay, Sirius.  I’m not so good at this game either,” Merrill said cheerfully.  She laid a hand on Sirius’ shoulder and squeezed.

 

Sirius shot her an affectionate grin and crowed, “Ha!  At least one of you clowns isn’t mean to me!”

 

“Oh Hawke, really?” came an unfamiliar, utterly exasperated woman’s voice from the entrance to Varric’s room.

 

“Aveline!” Varric called cheerfully.  “What brings the Captain of the Guard to my humble abode?  We haven’t seen you around lately.”

 

“Some of us have actual work to do,” the redhead in ornate armor said pointedly.  “And I’m here looking for Hawke.  I’d been hearing some rather disturbing rumors recently, and so I thought that I would come by and let Hawke disprove them himself.  I never actually expected that he really was using a child to do some of his dirty work.”

 

“And I don’t,” Hawke interrupted before Aveline could work up to what Harry thought sounded like it was about to be a glorious rant.  He was kind of disappointed, because she looked like the type who could really lay into someone, and it would be nice to watch someone lay into his cousin.  Just on principle, of course.

 

“So the rumors come from nowhere, then, an the child isn’t slitting purses and throats indiscriminately?  That he’s here, and bloodstained, is all just a coincidence?”  Aveline shook her head sharply.  “Hawke, really, I-”

 

“He’s my cousin!” Hawke interrupted once more.

 

“Which means... what?” Aveline asked.  She was scowling thunderously, now, her face ruddying with rage.  Harry couldn’t help but think rather meanly that the expression seemed to suit her nicely.  She looked like the scowling, disapproving sort.  No wonder Hawke didn’t spend much time with her.  “That you’ll feel more guilty when he gets himself killed gallivanting about Kirkwall in the middle of the night?”

 

“Which means that I couldn’t just turn him out into the street and this city isn’t safe for anyone.  It would be irresponsible of me to keep my cousin here and not train him to defend himself,” Hawke pointed out sharply.  His omnipresent smile was there as always, but at this point Harry thought that it looked rather forced.  His cousin’s patience was apparently wearing thin.

 

“I’ll grant you that, Hawke,” Aveline said as though it pained her, “Maker knows that my guards and I can’t be everywhere at once, and Kirkwall does seem to attract more than its share of madness.  But there’s a difference between helping your cousin learn to defend himself and using him as an... as an assassin!”

 

Hawke’s smile disappeared and he opened his mouth to say something, and before he could, Harry blurted out, “I’m learning a valuable life skill!”  When everyone turned to stare at him incredulously, Harry shrugged.  “What?  I consider the ability to slice and dice my enemies into finger-sized bits to be an incredibly important survival skill, considering the number of times people have tried to kill me already.”

 

Apparently that was enough to render the Captain speechless, because she shook her head, threw up her hands, and stormed from the room.  The game of cards resumed almost immediately, and Hawke’s smile blossomed as he tried once more to teach Anders the proper way to play the game.

 

Harry considered that to be a job well done.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“So, I’m not really all that sure that you should come with us for this one,” Hawke said even as the five of them picked their way gradually down the rather steep slope in the Bone Pit.

 

It was a full three weeks after the... incident with Aveline, and Harry had hoped to be over this by then.  All three weeks, Hawke had spent time waffling and debating before finally allowing Harry to accompany him on whatever adventure he had planned for the day.  But every time, every single time, Anders accompanied them now.  Even though Aveline herself had gone out with them a few times, had remarked on how very good with his blades Harry was, Anders still came out with them every time.

 

Which actually was a little bit disturbing, because Harry had noticed that the mage tended to be much quieter than he had been even two weeks ago, and Justice seemed more prone to make appearances.  And while Harry didn’t know all that much about mages within Thedas, much less possessed ones, he was pretty sure that was anything but a good sign.  His suspicions were confirmed by the fact that Fenris seemed closer and closer to slicing the mage’s head off with every passing moment.

 

But anyway, Harry’s point was that Hawke was now bringing the healer everywhere, and today he’d brought Varric instead of Isabela.  And that was great because Varric actually told jokes that Harry understood.  Isabela tended to make dirtier jokes, and Harry hated it when everyone in the group was laughing except for him.  It was even worse when Harry was pretty sure they were laughing at him.  

 

“Well,” Harry said thoughtfully in response to Hawke’s earlier comment, “I suppose I could make my way back up the slope but I honestly think it’s a little too late for that.”  The ground was, after all, already levelling out before them, and Harry was not making the trek up that slope again because Hawke had cold feet.  Honestly, it wasn’t like anything particularly dangerous was going to happen.

 

“No, because then you might run into whatever caused the destruction of the mines by yourself,” Hawke grumbled, “and none of us would be around to protect you.”  He finally shook his head and sighed, “No, you might as well stick with us.  It’s pretty quiet down here at least.”

 

And then, as things tended to do when Harry happened to be involved, everything went straight to hell.

 

They heard the angry roar of the dragon first, followed by a gust of wind as the massive beast landed.  One mighty claw swept out and knocked Anders to one side in an impressive opening gambit.

 

“Oh, Maker,” Hawke breathed, because who could imagine a high dragon this close to Kirkwall?  It was madness.

 

“Why do you have to say things like that, Hawke?  You were practically asking for this!” Varric shouted, even as he drew Bianca and opened fire.

 

“Harry, stay back!  Keep us on your feet if you can, and for the Maker’s sake, if we fall you run!” Hawke bellowed even as he began to cast Winter’s Grasp.

 

Harry was incredibly grateful that he’d learned from Anders to make some fairly strong healing poultices, and that he always carried a rather insane amount at all times.  Because he had the feeling that even though he was carrying a crazy amount of poultices, they wouldn’t be enough for this.  A high dragon?  Really?  The Maker was laughing at them.

 

And then Harry didn’t have the time to believe that the Maker was laughing at them, didn’t have time to believe much of anything at all, because everything started moving too quickly.  It seemed like as soon as he got one of the adults back on their feet, another went down.  Fenris gave him several heart attacks, especially the time he got picked up and tossed around by the dragon in the middle of the fight.  But slowly and surely they whittled away at the dragon’s defenses, until it retreated to a cliff and called for a wave of small dragons.

 

These, Harry could help with, and so he did.  He darted in and out and around the mess of dragons, striking where he could.  He used the breather to get Varric, Hawke, Anders, and Fenris back up to their fullest strength because he knew the battle wasn’t over.  The dragon was still up there, after all, and the moment the last smaller dragon fell, the High Dragon let out another enraged roar and jumped off her rock.

 

They fought through two more waves in that manner, and Harry was just starting to think maybe they might win the day.  Which was fantastic, because he had no intention at all of running away if everyone else had fallen.  For one thing, he didn’t think the dragon would exactly allow him to just walk away.  But none of that mattered, because the dragon was wearing down.  It was clear her strength was fading and her movements were slowing just enough to make scoring hits on her easier for Fenris, Hawke, Anders, and Varric.

 

And then Fenris went down with a cry of pain that made Harry cringe.  He was rather fond of the surly elf; he didn’t want Fenris to be hurt.  Harry dodged a gout of flame and darted across the field of battle to kneel before the fallen warrior.  It was then that he found, much to his dismay, that he had finally run out of supplies.

 

“Hawke, I’m out of poultices!” Harry shouted.

 

Hawke didn’t respond.

 

Harry glanced up and his heart skipped a few beats.  Hawke was down, too, and as he watched, the dragon flailed out and caught Anders with her tail, knocking him into the valley wall.  Anders didn’t get back up, and was, in fact, frighteningly still.  Varric was still up, still firing away, but the dragon apparently didn’t think he was much of a threat.  She ignored Varric and instead darted towards Fenris’ unconscious form, head lowered to bite.

 

Harry didn’t stop to think.  He brought his daggers up and lunged at the beast, scoring a long gash from her eye to her neck, and taking her left eye along for the ride.

 

He heard her shriek in rage and pain but he didn’t dare turn to look.  Instead, he darted between her stomping feet and beneath the dragon.  He could feel the gust of heat and wind and hear the snap of her teeth as they closed only millimeters from Harry’s new spot beneath her.

 

While under the dragon and on his way out to the other side, Harry lifted both daggers and found that, yes, in fact, the dragon’s underbelly was as soft as her eyes.  Really, this wasn’t that much unlike fighting the basilisk in his second year.  At least he could keep his eyes open for this one.  And all he really had to do was keep moving.  Isabela had certainly prepared him for that.   _ A slow rogue is a dead rogue _ , she’d drilled into him.

 

“Harry, are you crazy?” Varric shouted.  Harry heard but didn’t care because he had more important things to worry about than an irritable dwarf.  Like, you know, the twenty-ton dragon that was trying to use him as a toothpick.

 

He twisted and danced and darted in with his knives whenever he found a somewhat vulnerable spot.   The dragon was already slow from her earlier wounds or Harry knew he wouldn’t have stood a chance.  As it was, he could barely keep up with her.  Varric drew the dragon’s ire occasionally by scoring a shot or two, giving Harry an occasional second of breathing room, but for the most part Harry was on his own.

 

He didn’t know how long he’d been dancing with the dragon when he felt her claw pierce his stomach.  Harry shrieked in pain, but gritted his teeth and kept moving.  To slow down was to be dead, and Harry had a lot to do before he died.

 

“Would you just die already?” Harry snarled at the dragon, darting in close once more as the dragon lifted her claw.

 

The dragon staggered and Harry spotted another opening.  He took it, leaping onto the incoming claw and then onto the darting neck.  He raised both daggers and stabbed into her neck, then jerked them free and got her other eye when she turned to snap at him.  The dragon’s head flailed and Harry was flung free, or would have been had his dagger not been stuck in her eye.  He clung to it grimly, wincing as he felt his shoulder snap out of place.

 

The dragon roared, and Harry had to close his eyes against the heat of her flame building.  Harry struck blindly up into the dragon’s mouth, and felt the moment his dagger speared the soft roof of her mouth.  He recognized the feeling from his equally frantic fight with the basilisk.

 

The high dragon shrieked and began to spasm, the violent motion finally throwing Harry all the way clear.  He landed on his back on the floor of the Pit, his head striking the ground with a crack he could hear as much as he could feel.  As the dragon’s spasms slowed, everything around Harry went black.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry heard them talking, first.  And by talking, he definitely meant arguing.

 

“Did you mean to get my godson killed?” Sirius was shouting.  He could hear the anger, the frustration in his godfather’s voice.

 

Harry winced.  His head was throbbing miserably.  Sirius shouting wasn’t really helping with that.  Harry tried to open his eyes, to open his mouth and protest, to do something, but the moment his eyes fluttered open the world spun angrily around him and he slammed them shut once more.

 

“Shut up, mutt!  Your shouting won’t do anything but hurt his head even more,” Fenris growled.  He’d survived, then.  That was good news, Harry thought rather fuzzily.

 

“I thought it was your job to protect him!”  Sirius shot back, his voice still far too loud for Harry’s peace of mind.  And that just wasn’t nice.  Fenris had done everything he could to protect Harry in the fight against that monster.  It wasn’t his fault that Harry had gotten himself injured.

 

“I should have liked to see you face down a fully-grown high dragon,” Fenris snarled back.  But at least he was quiet in his irritation.

 

“Both of you are disturbing my patient and if you aren’t careful, and quiet, I’ll throw you out into the street,” Anders said quietly and clearly.  Harry felt a small rush of healing energy flow through him with the words and the ache in his head eased just enough that he felt comfortable slitting his eyes open just a bit.  The world didn’t spin nearly as much this time around.

 

It took him a moment to realize he was in the clinic, on the table towards the back of the room.  He could spot Sirius, as well as the four that had been with him for the fight with the dragon.  Isabela and Merrill were there as well, Merrill nervously wringing her hands while Isabela spoke to her in a low voice.  Harry felt a sickening surge of guilt for making them all worry about him, not that it was his fault or anything.

 

“Seriously, Sirius, it isn’t like I took him to fight a high dragon knowing that was what we were going to be facing.  And, honestly, according to Varric we’d be dead without him,” Hawke said.  “Which, let me just say, is doing wonders for my pride.  It’s a balm to my sore ego, to know that my fourteen year old cousin killed a high dragon after it put me and everyone else on our asses.”

 

“I totally kicked that dragon’s ass,” Harry croaked, then winced because he hadn’t been expecting his voice to sound like he’d swallowed dragon’s fire.  That was awful.  And it felt like he had, too, which was even worse.

 

“You did, yes,” Hawke agreed, leaning over to stare him in the eye.  “Can he sit?” Hawke asked Anders.

 

“For a second, and only a second,” Anders said, and Harry was lifted and Anders slid in behind him to support him.  Which was great, because Harry was pretty sure he wouldn’t be moving on his own anytime soon.

 

“Head down, kid,” Hawke commanded, and Harry obediently lowered his head.  He felt something land around his neck, something cool and hard, and hesitantly glanced down.  Hawke had dropped a pendant of some sort around his neck.  Upon closer inspection, it looked suspiciously like a high dragon’s tooth.  “You killed the dragon, and as such, you earned yourself a little trinket.  It’s called Urzara’s Tooth; it should help to keep you safe.  You know, so that you don’t go out and get yourself killed the next time you go out and fight a fully-grown dragon.”

 

Harry laughed, still a croaky sound but a little bit better.  “Because that’s something that’ll come up often,” Harry chortled.

 

“It’d better not,” Sirius said darkly.  “But I’m glad you’re alright, pup.”  His godfather leaned down, then, and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead.  “You should get some more rest.”

 

“He  _ should _ get some more rest, thank you,” Anders said sharply.  “You’ve all seen that he’s awake, now, and he needs some rest to recover from this nonsense.  He’ll be able to have visitors for longer periods of time once I’m comfortable moving him up to Hawke’s house, now shoo!”  Anders settled him gently back into bed, then, and tucked a blanket up around him.

 

Harry was about to protest that he wasn’t tired, that he didn’t need to rest, when he felt a gentle compulsion to sleep washing over him.  He had just enough time to curse the mages of Thedas and their sneaky abilities before Anders’ sleep spell took him back into dreams.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Once Anders had been comfortable moving him back home had turned out to be later in the same evening.  Of course, that didn’t mean that Harry was allowed to just go and do whatever.  Stomach wounds, which was what that claw in the side had turned out to be, were quite tricky and Anders wanted to give the healing time to set.  Which meant that Harry was stuck in bed for the next two days.  Harry had figured that those two days were going to suck terribly, but as it turned out, he was wrong.

 

“So Lightning, let’s talk about that fight,” Varric said cheerfully from the door the first morning of his enforced bed rest.

 

Harry swallowed the bit of food that he was working on and pointed out, “You were the only one of us to actually stay conscious for the entire fight.  Shouldn’t you be telling me what happened at the end?”

 

“Oh, the end was boring.  Once you took the dragon’s eyes and stabbed the roof of her mouth, well, then it was pretty much like anything else.  Yeah, she flailed a bit more, she roared a bit more, and there was a bit more fear of being crushed in the death throes, but you get the idea.”  Varric shook his head then and added, “No, I’m more interested in what happened just before climbed that beauty like she was a particularly violent mountain.  “  Varric leaned back in his chair, then, and stared at Harry meaningfully.

 

Harry frowned.  The fight really had been a blur; he could barely remember parts of it.  He still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d won, in fact.  And he didn’t remember anything that out of the ordinary.  Aside, of course, from the fact that he killed a dragon.  That was pretty out of the ordinary.  “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Harry said honestly.

 

Varric leaned forward, his hands steepled.  “LIghtning, you talked to her.  And she understood.  But you weren’t speaking any language I ever heard.”

 

Harry blinked and tried to remember.  His eyes widened, then.  A language that he could speak that others couldn’t understand?  That sounded... sort of familiar, actually.  He closed his eyes and focussed on the memory of the basilisk from his second year, and asked, “~Did it sound something like this?~” in Parseltongue.  He opened his eyes just in time to see Varric grimacing.

 

“Yeah, Lightning, it sounded just like that,” the dwarf said with a shudder.  “What did you say just then, anyway?”

 

“I asked if it sounded like that,” Harry said absently.  Huh.  Dragons understood Parseltongue.  That could be... that could be very useful in the future.  If, you know, he ever got around to fighting another dragon.  Which, actually, he was pretty determined not to ever do again.

 

“Well, Lightning, I don’t know what language that is, but it’s creepy.  And it could be very useful.  You could make a lot of coin talking to dragons in the right circles,” Varric pointed out with a grin.

 

“I’d rather that particular talent not make the rounds,” Harry said quickly.  It wasn’t that he was ashamed... well, no.  In all honesty, he was ashamed of it.  His talent had caused him quite a bit of  trouble in his second year and he wasn’t ready to flaunt it.  Besides, he wasn’t sure how his godfather would react to the news that he was a parselmouth.

 

Varric sighed.  “Such a shame, Lightning.”  He shook his head mournfully.  “You just don’t have any vision.”

 

Harry chuckled softly, then winced as it pulled at the delicate skin around his stomach.  “Us young people these days,” he said agreeably.  “We’re too busy being proud of ourselves for killing off dragons to have any kind of vision.”

 

“Well, that’s certainly worth being proud of.”  Varric stood, then.  “Well, I’ve gotta go.  Blondie’ll have my head if I exhaust you while your head and stomach are still questionable.  Take care, Lightning, and get better fast.  We already miss you at the Hanged Man.”

 

Harry closed his eyes once Varric was gone.  He’d thought he wouldn’t be tired, thought that maybe Anders was just being a mother hen, but apparently not so much.  He dropped off to sleep pretty much as soon as he let his eyes drift closed.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Of course, he couldn’t just sleep the entirety of the two days, much as he sort of wanted to.  He’d rested for quite a lot of the first day, then found after lunch that he could sleep no more.  He instead began working on the last of his summer projects, an essay on Transfigurations that he was really mostly finished with.  He’d written only a few words before he was joined by a very irritable Fenris.  Well, more irritable than the elf normally was at any rate.

 

Fenris slouched in the chair by Harry’s bed after slamming the door.  He glared in Harry’s general direction, but Harry knew the elf well enough after spending almost two months with him to know that it wasn’t Harry Fenris was actually glaring at.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  The elf was normally surly, but this was particularly bad even for Fenris.  “What’s up?” he asked.  It wasn’t that Fenris wasn’t surly all the time, and it wasn’t that the elf didn’t brood on occasion, it was just that this particular mood seemed more black than normal.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Fenris growled.  He slouched even further in his chair and directed his glower to the unlit fireplace in Harry’s room.  Harry thought that maybe Fenris might be able to light it with just the force of his glare.  Perhaps it was a latent mage talent?

 

Harry banished the thought before he said something aloud.  No need to taunt the already irritable warrior.  “Sure,” he offered instead of saying what he really wanted.  He then focussed his attention once more on his Transfigurations essay, raising it to squint at some of his rather deplorable handwriting.

 

A few moments passed in silence, and then Fenris said quite abruptly, “Hawke went with me to see my sister.”

 

Harry made sure to wipe the smile from his face before lowering his essay.  “I didn’t know you had one,” he said neutrally.  Fenris never made much mention of his family, but Harry couldn’t blame him.  It wasn’t as though Fenris had any clear memories of them.

 

“I don’t, anymore.  She sold me out to Denarius and I...  I lost my temper.”  There was an anger in Fenris’ voice, in his posture, that would have confused somebody who didn’t know the elf fairly well.  But Harry did, and could see the sorrow, the undertone of grief beneath it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly.

 

Fenris snarled, “I don’t want your pity!”

 

Harry flinched, then said coolly, “If you had it, I would care more about your not wanting it.”

 

Fenris had the grace to look chagrined.  “I... apologize.  My anger is not with you.”

 

Harry smiled gently.  “It’s okay,” he murmured.  “Can I help?”

 

Fenris shook his head, a violent a sharp motion.  “I just...” he trailed off and lowered his head.  The warrior looked so weary just then, Harry ached for his friend.

 

But Harry didn’t need him to finish the sentence.  Fenris didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to be reminded of his old master, didn’t want to be around Hawke and the constant joking banter; the options were endless.  Harry was more than happy to be his friend’s silent support.

 

He lifted his essay once more and started to study it for errors once more.  When Hawke swung by to check on him only twenty minutes later, Fenris had fallen asleep in the chair, a peaceful expression on his face, his head tilted at an angle that made Harry cringe.

 

Harry didn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face at his cousin’s incredulous look.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

A full two days after the incident with Fenris coming to him, Anders had decreed that Harry was more than well enough to be back on his feet.  Hawke still hadn’t taken him with him that day, leaving Harry to bum around Anders’ clinic all day with Fenris glowering at his side.  Harry had enjoyed himself in the clinic, and was determined to spend at least one or two more days helping the mage out down there before he was forced to return to Hogwarts.

 

Now, however, Fenris was gone, Anders was still at his clinic, and Sirius was who knew where doing who knew what with who knew whom.  And so, Harry found himself in the somewhat dubious position of eating a meal with his older cousin, alone.  This was not normally the case, and Harry wasn’t stupid enough not to think that something was up.  He knew better.

 

“What?” he asked defensively.  His cousin was staring at him over the dinner table, just watching as he finished his meal.  HIs cousin wasn’t smiling, and that lack of smile was very disconcerting.  There was no doubt in his mind now that Hawke had planned this for some reason, and the options available made him less than eager to finish his meal.  This couldn’t possible be going anywhere Harry wanted it to.

 

“Summer’s coming to an end for you very shortly, isn’t it?  We have a little under two weeks left if I’m not mistaken,” Hawke said, and his tone said very much that he doubted he was.  Nobody did casual arrogance quite like his cousin.

 

“You’re not mistaken,” Harry said with a small sigh.  For the first time since he’d first gone to Hogwarts, he wasn’t looking forward to the end of the summer.  For that matter, this year might just mark the first year ever that he wasn’t looking forward to the end of summer.  He was happy here.  He thought that maybe he would be perfectly content to stay here and continue making mischief and mayhem with his cousin and his merry band of miscreants.

 

“So I figure, that being the case, that you and I have a few things that we should talk about.”

 

Harry’s heart dropped.  “You don’t want me to come back next break,” he whispered, though it was difficult to make any noise at all around the sudden lump in his throat.

 

“What?  No!  Maker, no, nothing like that!” Hawke answered.  “In fact, what I want is the opposite of that.  I’d like to accompany you Outrealm to have a word with your current guardians.  You know, see if we can’t make things a little more official.  Because you’ve mentioned some things about the level of danger at your school that make me a little bit uncomfortable, and I’d rather have legal standing if anything should go wrong with your school.”

 

Harry’s fork fell to his plate with a clatter.  He didn’t even think; he rocketed around the table and flung his arms around Hawke.  His cousin tensed, then relaxed and gently returned the embrace.

 

“Thank you,” Harry whispered in his cousin’s ear, clinging with all of his strength.  He let go, then, and crept back around to his side of the table, blushing furiously as he reseated himself.

 

“I thought you knew by now that sudden movements like that in my direction are not generally advised?” Hawke asked, a gentle smile on his face.

 

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, and busied himself with a bite of Orana’s fantastic roast.  Now that he was no longer panicking about not being able to come back next break, food tasted amazing again.

 

“No, no, it’s fine.  I take it you like the idea, then?” Hawke asked cheerfully.  HIs grin was back in full force, now, as though it had never disappeared or softened.

 

“How could I not?” Harry asked.  “Being here with you guys was the best time I’ve ever had.  I’m so glad that you want me to come back.”  Harry’s throat was still choked off, but now for an entirely different reason.  The only time he’d ever been close to this happy had been when Sirius had offered to let Harry live with him just before summer.  Harry thought maybe he would be able to fight off a million dementors with the happiness from this memory if it ever came down to it.

 

Hawke’s grin turned a little wobbly for just a second before the Champion chuckled.  “Okay, great.  Now eat your dinner; you’re still far too skinny.”

 

Harry’s answering smile was a bit wobbly himself, which was why he had the decency not to call his cousin on the slight shaking in his voice.  He instead dipped his head into a shallow nod and took another bite of his food.  His cousin still wanted him, and he finally had a home away from Hogwarts that he could rely on.

 

This summer had been the best ever.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

It was on his last full day with Hawke and the others that Harry and Fenris stumbled into an interesting discussion between Anders and Hawke.  Hawke had told Harry to take the day, say goodbye to the town, whatever, as they had to leave fairly early in the morning.  As it stood, with this schedule, Harry would have only a day to speak with the Dursleys, get his things, and then be on the train by eleven o’clock the next morning.  It was going to be a bit of a rush.

 

So Harry had wandered around and said his goodbyes, and now he was visiting Anders in his clinic.  He figured he could spend the rest of the day helping Anders out, as he’d done the past few days.  Kirkwall had been quiet, lately, and though tensions between the mages and the templars ran high Hawke had largely chosen to stay neutral in the fight, which led to a dearth of things for the Champion and his companions to do.  And, as Harry had said earlier, volunteering at the clinic was fun.  So, there he was, intending to spend his last day of summer making poultices and brewing potions.  That was something he’d never thought he’d enjoy doing...

 

However, before he could walk into the clinic, he heard both his cousin and Anders in there and froze just outside, Fenris at his side.  “Hawke, please.  I just... I know that Justice isn’t... he isn’t the same anymore, and I know that he’s not right or... or good for me.  But I think... I think I’ve found a way to get rid of him for good,” Anders was saying.

 

Fenris let out a small, disbelieving snort.  “The only way to get rid of a demon is to kill the host,” the elf said lowly.

 

Harry elbowed the surly elf in the ribs and tried not to flinch as he accidentally struck a bit of armor the wrong way.  “Quiet, Broody,” he hissed to the elf.

 

“You’ve spent too much time around Varric,” Fenris hissed back, but fell silent obediently.  Apparently the elf was just as curious about this conversation as Harry was.

 

“Anders, if this is dangerous for you, then it isn’t worth it,” Hawke was answering, and Harry smiled.  His cousin was head over heels in love with the possessed mage.  Harry didn’t envy him that at all, actually, because it couldn’t be easy.  And it was almost guaranteed to have an unhappy ending.

 

“It’s not...”  Anders hesitated, and when he spoke again it sounded suspiciously like he was hedging his words.  “It isn’t all that dangerous to me, not really.  I mean, of course, nothing’s without its own risk, but this should be fine.  I just... well, two of the ingredients are a little difficult to get, that’s all, and I just need you help me get ahold of them.  Sela Petrae and Drakestone, to be specific.”  Anders’ voice had taken on a higher, slightly faster tone than normal.  He was nervous.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  He should be nervous.  Those weren’t... he’d been there when Anders had found the mixture those two ingredients could make.  He wasn’t sure that the mage even realized he’d been reading aloud, but he had been, and Harry remembered thinking that an explosion of that scale could probably have taken out Hogwarts.

 

“Are you sure this won’t hurt you in any way?” Hawke was asking dubiously as Harry pushed open the door.

 

Harry couldn’t stay silent, not on this.  He didn’t know what Anders was planning, but anything involving an explosive like that could only lead to trouble.  “So, I’m not potions prodigy, Anders can certainly attest to that, but those ingredients sound suspiciously like the active agents necessary to make a pretty powerful explosive,” he said conversationally.

 

Hawke’s dubious expression morphed quickly to an outright frown.  “Anders?” he asked quietly, giving his lover a chance to explain.

 

Justice, instead, let out a sudden roar of rage and lunged at Harry, only to be blocked by a snarling, glowing Fenris with his blade lifted.  “Give me an excuse, Demon,” Fenris snarled.

 

“Justice must be done!” the demon roared back, the energy coming off of him saturating the air in the clinic and making it feel electrically charged.  It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling, and Harry fingered his blades warily.

 

“How exactly is making some sort of explosive device causing any sort of justice?” Hawke asked, although the expression on his cousin’s face told Harry that Hawke likely already knew the answer, at least partially.

 

“I will destroy those who oppress us and rally others to our cause!  The monsters that seek to enslave us must learn that we will stand for their cruelty no longer!”  Justice whirled on Hawke, then, and said, “And though I do not approve of you, surely you can understand the need to act.  The templars and their cruelty grow by miles each day!”

 

“No, actually, I really can’t understand this at all,” Hawke said flatly.  “You’re talking about blowing up... blowing up what?”  Hawke shook his head, then realization dawned and he breathed, “You’re talking about blowing up the Chantry, aren’t you?  That isn’t going to do anybody any good!  The only thing you’ll do with that is get the Right of Annulment called down on the Circle!”

 

“And then the mages will rise up and break free of the chains the oppressors use to bind them!” Justice shouted.  “If you cannot see that-”

 

“The only thing that I see happening is the Divine calling an Exalted March!” Hawke shouted.  He slammed his hand against the table and said, low and imploring, “Can’t you see that the only thing this will do is get you, and hundreds of other innocent people, killed?”

 

“If you won’t stand with me, Hawke, then you stand against me,” Justice answered coldly.  “I always knew it was a mistake to allow Anders to consort with you, but I never imagined that you wouldn’t be there for him in this hour of his need.”  Justice turned his back on Hawke, then, and stalked towards the entrance to the clinic.  He brushed roughly past Harry.  “I’ll do this without you, then.”

 

Harry watched as Hawke made a decision.  His cousin closed his eyes, his face dark and pained.  “I can’t let you do that, Justice,” he whispered.  He drew his staff.

 

Justice whirled once more, his staff raising and the energy in the small clinic rocketing ever higher.  “You dare?” he shouted, a fireball forming on his staff.

 

Fenris didn’t give him the chance to fire it.  Before Harry could so much as pull his blades or Hawke could begin a spell, Fenris had his fist inside Anders’ chest.  He jerked his fist out, then, and with it came Anders’ bloody heart.

 

Hawke let out a choked cry and sprinted forward to catch Anders’ body as he fell.  The blue faded from Anders’ body as Justice dispersed, leaving behind Anders’ corpse.

 

“Hawke,” Fenris began hesitantly, apologetically.

 

“Don’t,” Hawke said sharply, tears streaming down his face.  He shook his head and said, “You did the right thing.  I know that, you don’t need me to...”  Hawke trailed off, then whispered, “But I can’t.  Please.  Just... just leave us.”

 

Harry pulled Fenris from the clinic and out of Darktown.  “Hanged Man?” he asked quietly, not sure of what else to suggest.  He could give the news to Varric, and the dwarf would see that the news made the rounds.  He could at least take that burden from his cousin.

 

Fenris was nodding wordlessly in response to the suggestion.  He shook the hand that he’d shoved into Anders’ chest, blood spattering along the pavement.  

 

Harry stopped walking and pulled a cloth from his belt.  “Give me your arm,” he commanded quietly.  The cloth was one he normally kept to wipe off bits of treasure before they went into his pocket.

 

Now, when Fenris presented his arm, Harry used it to carefully wipe the blood from it.  Harry realized that Fenris’ hands were shaking badly as he wiped the blood from the elf’s arm.  “I didn’t...”  Fenris stopped, then said quietly, “I was almost starting to believe that I wouldn’t have to kill him.”  The regret in his voice was a physical thing in the air between them.

 

Harry smiled sadly as he tucked the cloth back into his belt.  “From what I’ve read on possession, this was never going to end well.”  He squeezed Fenris’ hand and dropped it, then.  There was no doubt in his mind that Fenris had absolutely done the right thing.

 

“For Hawke’s sake, I had begun to hope that Anders would beat the odds,” was Fenris’ quiet response.

 

Harry had nothing to say to that, not really, so he simply began walking towards the Hanged Man once more.  He’d hoped that for Hawke as well, and it was a damned shame that those hopes hadn’t come to fruition.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Anders’ funeral, held the next morning at dawn by the water on the Wounded Coast, wasn’t attended by many, and most that came were well known to Harry.  The vast majority of Hawke’s friends were there, even Sebastian, whom Harry had seen only once.  The Chantry brother had said something disparaging about Harry and while Harry had been amused, Hawke hadn’t.  That had been the first and only time he’d seen Sebastian up until the funeral.

 

The fact that even Sebastian was there made the fact that Fenris was not all the more suspicious.  The elf had walked Harry back to Hightown, said his goodbyes, and then Harry hadn’t seen him since.  Harry was more than a little concerned, because Fenris hadn’t quite seemed himself when he’d left Hawke’s manor last night.  He hoped the elf was okay, but he wasn’t going to get a chance to find out.  They were leaving right after the funeral.  Harry just hoped that Hawke would look in on the elf.

 

And from what Harry understood of Outrealm funerals, this one was unique in that no official from the Chantry spoke.  Harry wasn’t exactly surprised, considering that Anders wouldn’t have appreciated it if they had, but Harry thought it might have made things a little bit better.  As it was each of Anders’ friends said something small, which meant that after everyone who had wanted to had spoken, they all milled about a bit awkwardly.

 

Hawke was standing, still and stoic, his face entirely blank.  Harry knew the expression to be a lie.  Harry had heard him the night before, sobbing and screaming drunken invectives at the unfairness of it all.  Harry knew his cousin had a terrible life before Kirkwall, that his cousin had lost a lot in his time, but he’d never really seen any evidence of that until now.  Harry had seen the aftermath of his cousin’s rage after Sirius had gotten Hawke tucked into bed.  He’d destroyed the library almost entirely, the desk in the study that had belonged to Anders’ burned to a cinder and several shelves of books overturned entirely.  Harry had done what he could to clean the mess up with Orana’s help, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

 

Hawke had hugged him that morning and apologized for his deplorable behavior, and the smile on his face had gotten nowhere near his eyes.  Harry hadn’t thought that Hawke should apologize, or should be forcing smiles onto his face.  Hawke hadn’t hurt him, after all, and nobody would expect him to be his normal self today.  How could they?

 

After the funeral was over, after Anders’ body had burned, Hawke took a long and slow breath and closed his eyes.  It was the most he’d moved since the funeral had begun.  When he opened them once more, his eyes were clear and calm.  Quietly he said to his friends, “Thank you all for coming.  I’m sure that Anders would have appreciated it, even if Justice never did understand our worth to him.”

 

He cleared his throat, then, and said, “Unfortunately, I have to take Harry back Outrealm now.  He has his school to attend, and Maker knows I wouldn’t want anyone to accuse me of corrupting a minor.”  He forced a smile onto his face and nodded at Aveline.  “But he’s coming back over the winter, and we’re going to keep his godfather hostage to make certain of it.”

 

It seemed that business as usual seemed to be the order of the day.  “Harry will have to come back to work off my debt to Isabela if I don’t get any better at cards,” Sirius said with forced cheer.  “She’ll probably own me by Christmas.”

 

“It’s adorable that you think I don’t already own you,” Isabela crooned, drawing a bit of strained laughter.  “Take care, precious, and keep your blades and skills sharp.  There will be a test when you get back.”

 

“And by a test, she means that she’ll lunge at you and see how fast you get your blades up, Lightning,” Varric said teasingly.  “So make sure you stay fast.  And alive.  Your school’s enough to give a respectable dwarf nightmares.”

 

“Good thing you aren’t respectable,” Harry shot back, his throat choking off suspiciously.  It made it very difficult for Harry to speak, much less to keep up with Varric.

 

“It’s a damn good thing,” Varric agreed.  “Respectable is boring.”

 

“Take care of yourself, Harry, and make sure that you don’t forget us,” Merrill offered, with a quick hug for him.  She handed him something, a small carved statue of a halla.  Harry recognized it as the one she always kept on the mantle in her house.  “Come back to us soon,” she whispered, and backed up.

 

Harry tucked the statuette into his bag and offered Merrill a wobbly smile.  “I could never forget you guys,” he whispered.  That was the only sound he could get past the lump in his throat.

 

“Well, you managed to survive a summer with these ruffians.  I expect nothing that I can do would get you to change your mind about coming back,” Aveline said quietly.  She’d turned out not to be too bad in the past two weeks, since once she’d known about him she’d been drug out with Hawke much more often.  She was a bit... stodgy, a bit too attached to the rules, but Harry liked her.  She reminded him a bit of Hermione in that sense.

 

“Probably nothing in the world could change my mind about coming back,” Harry said cheerily.  Not when his alternative was staying with the Dursleys over the summer.  “Besides, I’ll have to pay off Sirius’ debts.  I can’t leave him here to serve Isabela all his life.”  The laughter, this time, came to the group a little more easily and Harry relaxed just a bit.

 

“Right.  We have to get going or we won’t have time to get everything done we have to today,” Hawke said quietly, but there was a small smile on his face.  

 

“Be good while I’m gone, guys,” Harry offered.  “I won’t be here to save you from anymore dragons if you find them.”

 

“Get out of here, Lightning, before we school you on saving people,” Varric said with a shooing motion in Harry’s general direction.

 

Harry didn’t want to go.  He didn’t want to leave like this, on this sour note.  He didn’t want to go back to Hogwarts where he had teachers who either hated him or didn’t care, where Ron and Hermione fought like the children they both were, to a world where his godfather had never even been given a trial.  And he was going to miss Fenris, who hadn’t even bothered to show up to properly say goodbye.  Harry couldn’t deny that the elf’s failure to show hurt, but then, he supposed he couldn’t blame Fenris for not showing.  He had killed the mage, after all.

 

“Harry,” Hawke said quietly, pulling Harry from his thoughts.  “We really do need to be going,” his cousin said apologetically.

 

Harry nodded, and the two of them set off for Kirkwall for the last time until winter, the others following quietly behind.  It was a subdued end to a fantastic summer, but Harry wouldn’t trade the experience for anything in the world.  

 

Hopefully the winter break would go a little more smoothly than the summer had.


	3. Chapter Two:  Fourth Year, Part One

“Are they all supposed to look the same?” his cousin asked dubiously, studying the plain two-story house before them.  Harry could understand his confusion, considering that every house in Kirkwall was at least a little bit different, unlike the cookie-cutter houses of Privet Drive.

 

Although Harry could understand the confusion, he couldn’t quite manage to stifle his laughter.  Hawke wasn’t responding well to the Muggle world with its strange technologies, and it looked like he wasn’t going to respond well to Muggles in general.  Harry almost felt bad for his cousin, but then he remembered watching Hawke start to launch a fireball at an oncoming train and his sense of amusement eclipsed his pity.

 

“They don’t normally all look so very much the same,” Harry offered after stifling his laughter.  “I think the Dursleys are just weird.”  And then he thought about what he was saying and added, “Actually, I think everyone on this street is just weird.”

 

“And you grew up here?” Hawke asked doubtfully.  He was still eyeing the house like he expected a dragon to emerge from it at any given point in time, and Harry was having a lot of trouble stifling his laughter.  It was good for Hawke to be focusing on this, anyway, rather than Anders’ death.

 

“Is that really so hard to believe?”  Harry studied the house, trying to see it through his cousin’s eyes.  It just looked like a normal house to him, nothing special.  Nothing like the Weasley’s house, that was certain.

 

“It’s just so... boring,” Hawke said finally, and then shook his head.  “But we’ve got other things to focus on, and we’re on a limited schedule.  We should get a move on.”

 

“Right,” Harry said, and walked up and tried the door.  It was locked, so he rapped on it several times.  If he had his timing right, the Dursleys should just about be getting up to eat breakfast, which meant that he would get to ruin their day.  Or make it, depending on how this conversation went.

 

“l’ll get it!” he heard, followed by the thunderous sound of Dudley coming down the stairs.  He almost expected the house to shake, so loud was it.

 

Hawke drew his staff and pointed it warily at the door.  “There’s an ogre in there,” he said certainly.  “Not that I think you couldn’t help, but maybe you should stand back.”

 

Harry laughed, unable to stop himself.  “No, there’s nothing dangerous in there.  It’s just dear Dudley,” he said as the door opened.

 

Dudley stared at them for a few seconds, his entire face reflecting his shock.  Harry supposed he couldn’t blame him; Dudley had never seen people dressed as they were right then.  Then Dudley scowled at him, the expression meaner and uglier than ever before.  “Mum, Dad, the freak’s back!” he shouted into the house, and tried to slam the door in Harry’s face.

 

Hawke, staff already drawn, stopped the door from closing with it and offered Dudley a flinty smile.  “I thought you said there weren’t any ogres in here, Harry?  Also, I know that an ogre wouldn’t be so stupid as to refer to my cousin as a freak, would it?” he asked with a sweet smile.  It was only the hint of ozone in the air gave away the true level of his irritation.

 

“I’d let us in, Dudders.  We aren’t exactly dressed like we’re from around here, and Hawke here is really good at making scenes,” Harry said cheerfully.  He hoped that he could defuse the situation before Hawke actually let loose another fireball. That would be a blast to explain to the Aurors.

 

Hawke was grinning, now, the expression slightly manic.  “Is that something that would concern them, then?  Me making  a scene, that is.  Because I could easily conjure a demon or two, maybe launch a few fireballs, make a small little scene here in this lovely, quiet neighborhood.”

 

“I don’t-” Dudley began, then stopped when a light flickered to life in Hawke’s hand.  “I mean, that is to say, come in,” he stumbled, and backed away from the door.

 

Hawke paused for a moment, looking as though he was weighing his options, and then he swept aside and waved Harry in.  “After you, dear cousin,” he said cheerfully with a small flourish of a bow.

 

Harry scowled at him as he entered the house.  “Just throw me to the wolves, why don’t you?” he muttered as he swept by him.  The interior of the house hadn’t changed at all in the year he’d been gone.  Hawke was right.  It was creepy.

 

And then he stopped short at the sight of his uncle, purple-cheeked and looming over him.  It wasn’t that he was afraid, it was just that he hadn’t seen the man in a very long time, and suddenly he looked entirely unthreatening.  Strange, how a summer’s worth of experience killing people made men like his uncle look like nothing.

 

“Now listen here, you little Freak, you can’t just show up here after what you did last summer without so much as a-”  Vernon froze and fell abruptly silent and went white as a sheet.

 

Harry supposed he couldn’t blame him; he’d probably stop yelling to if a man dressed something like a barbarian was holding a bladed staff to his throat.

 

“Now that I have your attention, dear relative by way of two marriages, might I perhaps be given a moment of your time to discuss our mutual relation?” Hawke asked sweetly, and lowered his staff.

 

“I guess that depends on what you want to talk about,” Vernon finally said.  “If he’s done something wrong, we aren’t taking him back.  He’s your problem now.”

 

Harry knew they didn’t like him.  He knew it, and for the most part, he really didn’t care.  In fact, he sort of returned the sentiment.  The Dursleys were awful people, and he’d be glad never to have to deal with them again.  That being said, it still hurt to hear his Uncle talk about him like that.

 

Apparently it did more than hurt to hear his Uncle say that because there was a sound much like breaking glass, followed by a flare of red light.  He heard his Aunt shriek, either in fear or in pain, and saw another burst of red light move from the kitchen to envelope Hawke, who stood impassively as it happened.

 

“What did you do, boy?” Vernon bellowed, and lunged forward to grab Harry’s arm.

 

Harry didn’t wait for him to grab him, and instead ducked behind Hawke.  “I didn’t do anything,” he said defensively, even as Hawke lifted his staff once more.

 

“What did you do?” Petunia gasped as she walked slowly from the kitchen.  She leaned against the wall, as though too weak to support herself.  She was pale and colorless, and looked as though she’d been ill for weeks.

 

“I didn’t do anything!” Harry insisted again, then tugged at Hawke.  “Are you okay?  I saw the light hit you.”

 

Hawke frowned and considered the question.  “I’m fine,” he said finally.  “I just feel… heavier?  That’s the word I’m looking for.  I feel heavier.  Like I’m carrying something.”

 

A sudden, sharp rap on the door derailed the conversation completely.

 

Vernon visibly reigned in his temper and drew himself to his full height.  He plastered a smile on his face and opened the door, as though nothing were going on inside the house.  Once opened, he tried to slam it shut immediately thereafter.  “We don’t need any more of your lot here causing trouble!” he bellowed.

 

Harry’s eyebrows rose when the Headmaster stepped through the door, brushing past Vernon like he wasn’t even there.  “Something’s happened to the wards here,” he said to Harry, his eyes frighteningly intent.  They lacked their usual sparkle.

 

“Who’s this guy?” Hawke asked, nodding in the Headmaster’s direction.

 

“My school’s headmaster,” Harry answered.  “And I have no idea what happened to the wards, sir, though I would imagine it has something to do with my cousin and the fact that Uncle Vernon just gave me away.”

 

“And this is your cousin?” the Headmaster asked.  “An Outrealmer, I see.  Where did you even find him?”

 

“I spent the summer with him.  I used a copy of my family tree in Gringotts and found him.  He’s… loosely related to me on my father’s side of the family, apparently.”

 

The Headmaster’s frown of disapproval was rather thunderous.  “You were placed here for a reason, Harry,” he said.  “The Dursleys were the safest possible options for you.  This man could have been anyone!  You could have been killed Outrealm!”

 

“From what I’ve heard, he could have died any number of times at your school,” Hawke said quietly.  “I don’t think you’ve got any room to talk about safety.  At least I’ve given him instruction on how to defend himself.  You never even bothered with that.”  Hawke’s grin was a bit manic, and just a touch bloodthirsty.  Harry wasn’t particularly fond of that expression on his cousin’s face.

 

Of course, considering the events of yesterday, Harry couldn’t blame him for being a little more irritable than normal.

 

“Hogwarts is the safest place in the world,” the Headmaster countered, his frown worsening.

 

“Maybe for most of the students, but it doesn’t seem to be the case with my cousin.”

 

Harry fought the urge to check the time.  This was… rather boring, actually.  Maybe because he knew that Hawke would win this battle of wits, maybe just because he didn’t care.  What did it matter?  The Headmaster was in the wrong, but Harry was certain that he would never admit to it.  Instead of asking the time, he redirected the conversation.  “You were accusing me of doing something to the wards?” he asked politely.

 

“They’ve disappeared,” the Headmaster said immediately, turning his attention back to Harry.  “If you really weren’t here all summer, I’m not terribly surprised.  The wards would have weakened greatly without your presence and it would have been very easy to shatter them.”

 

“That’s what summoned you here, then?  The wards dropping?” Hawke asked thoughtfully.

 

“It is,” the Headmaster answered.  “I monitor the wards here at all times.  When they dropped, I immediately came to find out why.”

 

“That could have something to do with that weird red light,” Hawke said.  “If your Uncle gave you away, could those wards have transferred?”

 

The Headmaster’s scowl grew even more pronounced.  Really, Harry thought this might be one of the record books.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the man so angry in his life.

 

He drew his wand.  “May I?” the Headmaster asked Hawke stiffly.  When Hawke nodded, a long and complicated string of latin fell from his lips.  When he finished, Hawke was surrounded by a strong, solid blue aura.  “The wards have, indeed, transferred to you, sir,” the Headmaster said stiffly.  “Magic herself has decreed you to be Harry’s guardian, and there are none who can argue with her.”

 

“That means I don’t have to worry about getting these two to hand him over, right?” Hawke asked.  “Because I was sort of looking forward to forcing them to hand him over.  It’s just been that kind of week.”

 

The Headmaster, if possible, looked even more alarmed.  “There’s no need for that.  You’re Harry’s legal guardian now, for better or worse.  Ministry records will automatically be altered to reflect that change.  They should have altered the minute you took over the wards.”

 

Hawke shrugged.  “That’s fine,” he said cheerfully.  “It means I can take menacing off my schedule and move on to shopping.  Harry still needs his school supplies.  We’ve had a busy summer and haven’t had time to pick them up yet.”  Hawke slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders and steered him toward the door.

 

“If I could just have a moment more,” the Headmaster began, and reached out to grab Harry’s arm.  He stumbled back before he could connect, repelled by an unseen force that had Harry raising his eyebrows.  That was new.

 

“Sorry!” Hawke chirped.  “We’re already running late.  We’ve really gotta get moving if we’re going to go buy school supplies.”

 

The Headmaster was curiously silent, and the door slammed shut behind them a moment after they left the house.

 

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly.  “So, Diagon Alley?”

 

“Diagon Alley,” Hawke said agreeably.  And then, a minute later, Hawke asked, “Can we visit Vertic Alley next?”

 

Harry groaned.  “If I have to listen to another pun from you, we aren’t visiting anywhere ever.  Also, I don’t think there is a Vertic Alley.”

 

“That’s too bad,” Hawke said, and if he got very quiet as they made their way to the Alley, Harry didn’t say anything.

 

His cousin was trying too hard.  Trying to pretend like nothing had happened, like Anders wasn’t… like he wasn’t dead, that wouldn’t do any good.  Hawke needed to move on, of course, but not like this.  This… almost manic behavior wasn’t doing anybody any good.

 

He just hoped his cousin wasn’t headed for a terrible crash.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Diagon Alley was interesting enough that Hawke perked up almost immediately upon arrival, Harry was glad to see.  It seemed a more natural cheer than the forced behavior earlier in the morning.  The Alley was enough like the Hightown Market that it wasn’t overwhelming, but unique enough to hold Hawke’s attention.

 

Shopping seemed to take forever.  The Alley was crowded with other students making last minute purchases, and it took most of the day for Harry to get all the things that he needed together.  He went through it all as quickly as he could, although with the crowds it wasn’t very quick at all.  But he tried, at least until he got to the bookstore.  There, Harry slowed down.

 

“Do you remember what you said to me about using this style of magic Outrealm?” Harry asked his cousin, who was studying the rows of books before them.

 

“That I didn’t know enough about it to be comfortable with you using it as a weapon?” Hawke hazarded.  “What about it?”

 

“You’re right.  You don’t, and neither do I.  I don’t know nearly as much about my magic as I should, and that’s bothering me.  Somebody tries to kill me at least once a year, and I’ve been getting by barely reading my textbooks.  If I knew more advanced magic, things like being bitten by the basilisk might have never happened.”

 

Hawke turned to look at him skeptically.  “So… basically you’re saying that you’d like to buy a lot of books.”

 

Harry grinned and nodded.  “That’s pretty much exactly what I’m saying.”

 

By the time he finished looking through the rows upon rows of books, almost two hours had passed.  He left the store that day with over a dozen books on defensive and offensive magic, the sort that he doubted even Hermione had ever heard of.  He was determined not to be caught unaware ever again.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Towards the evening, after everything was said and done and before they went back to their room at the Leaky Cauldron, they settled in at Fortescue’s for a bowl of ice cream.

 

It was there, hunched over his bowl, that Hawke’s facade finally broke a bit.  “Anders would have loved this place,” he whispered.  He was staring down at his bowl of ice cream, not looking around anymore.

 

Harry thought about it for a moment as he swallowed his bite of ice cream, then he shook his head.  “I don’t think so,” Harry said.  “I think he would have hated it here, and that’s why he never tried to make it Outrealm.”

 

“You don’t think he would’ve liked to see what magic, unencumbered, could do?  What it could build?”  Hawke considered what he’d said for a moment, then he shook his head.  “You’re right.  He’d have been so jealous.  It would have made things worse, not better.”

 

“To say nothing of the fact that this is such an unjust world,” Harry added, nodding at the WANTED! poster of his godfather.

 

Hawke laughed, the sound a little strained.  “That would’ve set Justice off for sure,” he said.  His smile, when he finally met Harry’s gaze, was wavering but most definitely there.

 

Something in Harry relaxed a little.  His cousin wasn’t okay now, of course he wasn’t.  But he was getting there, and that was what mattered.  And Varric and Isabela and everyone else certainly wouldn’t let Hawke wallow in his depression too much.

 

It would be fine.  It had to be.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“You’ll be careful this year, right?” Hawke asked as they stood on the platform.

 

“I will,” Harry promised immediately.  He had no intention of getting himself in trouble this year.

 

“Keep your daggers on you at all times, okay?” Hawke continued.  “You can’t use them if you don’t have them on.”

 

Harry laughed.  “I don’t think my professors would appreciate that!” he said through his laughter.  “There’s a reason I didn’t bring them,” he said once he’d calmed down a bit.

 

“Your robe is loose enough.  Your professors don’t necessarily need to know.”  Hawke pulled out a large package wrapped in brown paper and handed it to Harry.  “Keep them on you at all times.”

 

Harry’s eyebrows rose.  “You’re giving me my daggers?” he guessed, though it was a little too heavy for just them.  He’d left them behind because he didn’t want to carry them at Hogwarts, but if Hawke was going to insist…

 

“Both of them,” Hawke said quietly.  “And Urzara’s Tooth, which you never should have taken off.  And something Varric gave me for you.  Assassin’s blades.  They’re smaller than your usual ones, and will fit in the arm holsters in the package.  If you get into trouble and can’t get to your proper daggers, you can flick your wrist in a certain way and they’ll pop out.  They aren’t as good as your normal ones, but they’ll work in a pinch.”

 

Harry laughed incredulously.  “Just what do you think is going to happen to me while I’m at school?” he asked.  It was almost like Hawke was preparing him for war.

 

“I think your teacher will attack you and try to kill you.  I think a monster will get loose in the school and try to eat you.  I think a well-meaning stranger after revenge will accidentally try to kill you.  You know, what’s happened every year up until now.  That’s what I think will happen to you.”  Hawke grabbed his shoulder, then, and shook him a little.  “I can’t lose anyone else, Harry, so I need you to promise me.  Promise me that you’ll be as safe as you can.”

 

Harry didn’t even hesitate.  “I swear,” he said.  It wasn’t like he wanted to die, anyway, so it wasn’t exactly a hard promise to make.

 

“Good boy,” Hawke said.  The train whistle blew, then, and Hawke smiled a little sadly.  “Go on, then.  Don’t want you to miss your train.”

 

“Stay safe, Hawke!” Harry called as he took off running.  He really couldn’t miss the train.  He didn’t want another trip in the flying car or something worse than that.

 

“You too!” Hawke shouted.  “And take care!”

 

Harry frowned.  There was something off about the way that Hawke had said that, but he didn’t have time to turn and ask.  As soon as he hopped onto the train, it was pulling out of the station.  He barely had time to turn and wave before the platform faded into the distance.

 

He grabbed his trunk and headed off in search of Ron and Hermione.  It didn’t take him long to find them; they were waiting in their usual car.  When they spotted him, they leapt to their feet and immediately began firing questions at him.

 

“Where were you all summer?”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“What happened?  We tried to bring you to the World Cup with us but you weren’t at the Dursleys and the Headmaster had no idea where you were!”

 

“You could have been killed!  Why weren’t you staying with the Dursleys, Harry?  Do you know how dangerous it was to be someplace where nobody could find you?”

 

Harry let the words wash over him and simply waited for the barrage of words to stop.  Once they had, he offered them a small smile.  “Did you guys have a good summer?”

 

“Harry, you can’t just not answer us,” Hermione said with a frown.  “We were really worried!  We thought… I mean, we thought that maybe you’d been hurt or… or worse!”

 

“I’m going to answer,” Harry said patiently.  “You guys kinda threw a lot at me, though, so I thought I’d slow things down a bit.”  He tried his cousin’s trick and kept his voice light and cheerful and didn’t lose his smile.  “What’s the rush, anyway?  We have the whole train ride to go.”

 

Hermione was staring at Harry like she’d never seen him before.  “Right,” she said after a moment of silence, the word drawn out in disbelief.  She sat down once more, her eyes on him the entire time.

 

Ron, too, settled down.  He looked almost as confused as Hermione.

 

Harry settled as well after shoving his trunk up onto the rack above him.  His box he kept down with him, knowing that he should probably get his gear back out before getting off the train.  Hawke would kill him otherwise.  

 

He began to slowly open up the packaging as he began to speak.  “I found a cousin that Dumbledore never told me I had, and Padfoot and I went to stay with him instead of the Dursleys.  I spent the summer with him and his friends.  We had an excellent time and I learned quite a lot from Hawke and Varric and Isabela and everyone else.  Obviously, I’m not dead and I am, in fact, in better health than I’ve ever been in the past.  What else was there?”

 

Ron scowled.  “Pig couldn’t find you.  None of the owls could.  Where were you that the owls couldn’t reach you?”

 

“I was Outrealm,” Harry said.  He realized that he was still smiling, and that he’d definitely mastered Hawke’s perpetual grin.  Which was great, because it was very disarming.  It was one of the better social skills he could have picked up from his cousin, considering that his other default skill when dealing with people was murder.

 

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed in shock.  “You could have been killed!  Outrealm is supposed to be terribly dangerous.”  Her scowl was fierce as she glowered at Harry.  That scowl faltered a bit when she realized that Harry was still grinning at her, as though entirely unaffected by her scolding.

 

To be perfectly honest, he was unaffected.  “As I said, I’m very clearly not dead.  In fact, I feel like I’ve learned quite a lot over the summer, as I said.”  Harry’s grin widened and he added, “You know, more ways to not die when things go pear-shaped this school year, since you know they will.”

 

“But that was very reckless of you, Harry,” Hermione whispered.  “What if things hadn’t gone so well?  Did you even think about what you were doing?”

 

“Of course I did!” Harry snapped, his smile falling away.  “I thought about it.  I thought about another summer locked in my room being fed through a cat flap.  I thought about my godfather being on the run because the wizarding world won’t even give him a trial.  I thought about my Uncle and the way he hit me last summer.  He nearly broke my ribs, Hermione!  How could I go back to that?”

 

Hermione had gone white and her eyes filled with tears.  “Harry, I-”  She stopped, then, and rubbed fiercely at her eyes.  “I didn’t know it was so bad,” she managed, her voice a little choked.

 

“Yeah, well, you guys never asked, did you?” Harry bit out.  “You just assumed that the Dursleys were safe because the Headmaster said so, and they aren’t.”

 

Harry closed his eyes and forced himself to take several deep breaths.  He was angry, very angry, and he had to calm down before he did something he would later regret.  He wasn’t Outrealm anymore, and drawing steel on his friends wasn’t an appropriate response at all.  Even if he wasn’t going to attack them, it was a bad idea.  Anyway, he hadn’t finished unpacking his blades, yet.  He’d just managed to get the paper off the box.

 

Once he’d calmed down a bit, he realized that he really didn’t even want to pull a dagger on Hermione.  She was just worried about him, and was just expressing that worry in the only way she knew how.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Perhaps being Outrealm with their casual attitudes about violence hadn’t been the best influence on him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.  “You didn’t deserve that.”

 

“No, you made a fair point.  We didn’t know how bad things were with the Dursleys because we didn’t ask,” Ron said quietly.  “But you also never said, and you can’t be mad at us if you didn’t tell us something.  That’s really not fair.”

 

Harry’s grin returned, a little bit softer.  “Of course,” he said agreeably.  Ron was right.  He couldn’t be mad at them for not understanding things that he hadn’t told them.  That wasn’t fair at all.

 

The snack trolley came rolling through then, and Harry was grateful for the momentary distraction it provided.  He waited until the trolley was gone, then opened up the box the rest of the way.  He slipped out of his robes and put his daggers in their proper places.  He also slipped Urzara’s Tooth over his head where it settled comfortably in it’s usual place.  He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the weight of his equipment until he’d put it back on.  It was… comfortable, to have his weapons on him once more.  The new assassin’s blades were awkward, but he supposed they’d be more comfortable the more he wore them.

 

“Harry,” Hermione began quietly, “Why exactly are you carrying daggers?”  Her voice was small and quiet, like she was afraid to question him.

 

“Because every year so far somebody’s tried to kill me in one way or another, and I’m really, really tired of not being able to properly defend myself,” Harry said cheerfully.

 

Hermione and Ron both stared at him oddly for the rest of the train ride when they thought he wasn’t looking at them.  Neither of them said anything more, so Harry was content to let their stares go.

 

Instead of saying anything, he enjoyed the silence.  He had a feeling it would be in short supply once he’d made it to Hogwarts.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

When they got to Hogwarts, Harry was startled by the monsters pulling the carriages.  He opened his mouth to ask about them, but quickly realized that nobody else seemed to be reacting to them.  If nobody else was reacting to them, then clearly they couldn’t see them.

 

Harry decided not to ask, and to look it up once he had some free time to visit the library.

 

The three of them settled into a carriage, and oddly enough the door to the carriage closed on its own shortly after the three of them settled in.  Harry studied the empty space beside him and wondered, then shook it off.

 

His curiosity was only rekindled when Hermione said, “That’s strange,” with a frown.  “Normally the carriages take four before closing.”   
  


“Yeah,” Harry muttered.  “Weird.”  He stared hard at the empty seat beside him and wondered if maybe one of the other students was hiding under a cloak like his own.  He certainly wouldn’t mind hiding under his cloak sometimes, so he couldn’t blame whoever it was if that was the case.  Or maybe the carriages were all full and that was why the door had closed, because the carriages started moving shortly thereafter.

 

Once they’d been moving for a bit, Harry asked, “Anybody know who our Defense teacher is this year?”

 

“Whoever it is will have to be really good after the Death Eater stuff at the Cup,” Ron answered.  “We might get an Auror or something.  People are really nervous.”

 

“Death Eater?” Harry asked.  The term was entirely unfamiliar to him, but it definitely didn’t sound like anything good.

 

“Voldemort’s allies during the war.  They were a nasty lot,” Ron responded.  “A bunch of them attacked some Muggles at the campgrounds after the World Cup.  It was… really scary, actually.  You should probably be glad you missed that.”

 

That sounded rather strange to Harry, that Voldemort’s old followers would be acting up so many years after his defeat, but before he could mention it the carriages were stopping.

 

During the welcoming feast that followed, Harry learned several things.  The first was that he’d apparently learned his cousin’s distaste for authority as the new Defense professor gave him the creeps.  Something about the ex-Auror made Harry very uncomfortable, though Ron sung his praises.

 

The second thing he learned was that the school would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament, which sounded like all kinds of fun to Harry.  But even before the Headmaster announced the age limit, Harry had decided not to compete.  It sounded like exactly the sort of thing that would put him in danger, and he’d promised Hawke that he would be as safe as he could.

 

Which was fine, really.  He would enjoy a quiet school year.  It would be fun to watch other people try to kill themselves this year instead of doing it himself.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

_ Dear Hawke, _

 

_ How are things going in Kirkwall?  Are you holding up okay?  And please tell me that Padfoot is behaving himself while I’m not there to watch him.  You know how much trouble he is.  I hope he hasn’t gambled away your mansion.  I’d be unhappy not to have a home to come back to. _

 

_ Things are pretty okay here, I guess.  Ron and Hermione were really angry with me for not telling anyone where I was going over the summer.  Which, I mean, I guess is understandable.  Even if you’d think they’d be happy that I had a good summer for once in my life.  But whatever.  Also, the Headmaster is giving me funny looks.  I think you scared him a little, maybe, or something like that.  But I’m writing this right after the welcoming feast, so there’s a chance things will improve before you even get this letter.  They probably will, anyway. _

 

_ Oh!  Also, this year it looks like I won’t be the heroic entertainment for everyone to gossip about.  Let’s talk about how excited I am about that, right?  Apparently we’re having some kind of tournament this year, and I’m two years too young to enter.  So that’s a good thing, right? _

 

_ Give my love to everyone else, and remember that if it gets too expensive to send mail Outrealm, I can more than afford to pay for the letters.  My parents did leave me something like a fortune, after all. _

 

_ All my love, _

_ Harry _

 

_ Harry, _

 

_ Bite your tongue!  Writing to you is clearly what I was collecting all of those shiny little pieces of gold for.  That said, I’m collecting everyone’s letters to send them in a bunch.  Five sovereigns a piece is just a touch pricey.  Not that I mind paying it for my dearest little cousin, of course. _

 

_ Things are… normal enough, I suppose, or close to it.  Yes, I miss Anders quite a lot, but it’s getting better.  Having Padfoot here is actually a big help.  The house is never quiet with him around.  I think Aveline’s ready to try and kill him, though, because nowhere else is quiet while he’s around either.  I don’t even want to think about what the mutt did at the Hanged Man just the other day… _

 

_ Anyway, even if personally things are quiet, around town they’re anything but.  Things are getting even worse between Orsino and Meredith.  Do you know that the other day I caught the two of them arguing in the streets?  Elthina actually stepped in that time.  And now both of them are trying to get me to side with them and spy for them.  Or something.  I keep putting them off, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to manage it.  Merrill’s moved in with me because it’s no longer safe for her in the Alienage.  I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to go to Meredith because I think she knows what’s going on down there, and I really do want to take care of that mess before more people die.  There have already been three or four elves killed.  It looks like a blood mage is responsible.  The only thing is, if I do something for her then I’ll have to do something for Orsino just so I don’t take sides.  I just don’t know what to do right now. _

 

_ Other than that bullshit, it’s not so bad here.  We met an old friend of Isabela’s, who was just as much of a flirt as she is.  He might have even been worse.  But definitely not a tease.  Zevran was a lot of fun, actually.  And, you know, I got to meet one of the Hero of Ferelden’s friends, which was sort of awesome.  Yes, I’m a little bit of a fan. _

 

_ Have fun with your entertainment though!  Tournaments are a lot of fun, if a little bloodthirsty.  Well, they might not be that bloodthirsty at your school.  Wait.  This is your school we’re talking about, which means that at least one competitor has to die, right?  I’m just glad that it won’t be you. _

 

_ I’m not getting sappy down here like you did, brat, _

_ Hawke _

 

_ PS:  Padfoot sends his love. _

 

The letter had a carefully inked pawprint at the bottom that made Harry smile, even if he wasn’t quite grinning at the rest of the letter.  He hoped that Hawke was being careful.  It sounded like things could get pretty terrible out there if he wasn’t.

 

There were two other letters in the packet, one from Isabela and one from Varric.

 

_ Harry! _

 

_ Hawke said that I had to be appropriate when writing to you because there might be little children around when you read this.  What’s the fun in that?  Anyway, you’d better be keeping up your practice.  I plan on ambushing you when you get back here and if you aren’t ready I might just have to punish you.  Don’t disappoint me. _

 

_ -Isabela _

 

_ Lightning, _

 

_ Do me a favor and see if you can’t con Hawke into telling you what he’s done with Broody.  We haven’t seen him since you left and, I’m not going to lie, I’m a little bit worried about him.  Hawke was pretty upset with him after the thing with Anders, and I’m thinking that maybe Hawke killed him, or banished him, or something. _

 

_ Also, would you tell your cousin to keep his nose out of politics?  It never goes well.  Look what happened last time!  He wound fighting the Arishok in single combat and becoming the city’s Champion!  The only place to go from there is all the way up to the top, to being the Viscount.  Tell him that he doesn’t need that kind of grief, because he’s not listening to me. _

 

_ -Varric _

 

It was Varric’s letter that demanded a response from Harry, and so, tired as he was, he started writing.

 

_ Dear Hawke, _

 

_ Did you kill Fenris?  Varric said that he disappeared.  If you killed my bodyguard, I’m going to be pretty upset with you.  I might cry.  You wouldn’t want to make your favorite cousin cry, would you?  There has to be some kind of rule about that. _

 

_ Also, please stay out of politics!  Don’t get involved with Meredith or Orsino.  That road leads to ruin, for you and everyone else.  Leave Elthina to sort out that madness, because that’s her job.  Not yours.  You just concentrate on keeping all of our people alive and out of the Circle.  And, you know, help who you can.  About the Alienage thing, why don’t you just stake it out yourself?  Who needs Meredith’s intel?  If people are dying there, I’d say it’s the Champion’s job to interfere whether you go to her for information or not. _

 

_ Here, things are… getting interesting, I guess you could say.  Something’s really weird about our DADA professor.  I know you’re shocked, right?  Ron knows a bit about him.  He’s a retired Auror, apparently, named Alastor Moody.  Ron calls him Mad-Eye Moody.  He’s… the only word I have for him is creepy, actually.  He showed us the three Unforgivable curses and terrified one of my classmates.  I’m a little concerned that he’s evil.  Actually, no, I’m a lot concerned that he’s evil.  I get evil vibes from him, so I’ve been keeping a close eye on him.  What’s scary is that I think he’s keeping a close eye on me, too. _

 

_ Stay safe, Hawke.  I want a home to come back to in the summer. _

 

_ Still all my love even if you called me a brat, _

_ Harry _

 

_ You obnoxious little shit, _

 

_ I did not kill Fenris!  He’s just… doing some things for me, that’s all.  Some things away from Kirkwall.  Important, secret type things.  Don’t you worry your messy little head about it, and remind me to kill Varric for mentioning it to you at all. _

 

_ In other news, things really are getting worse around here.  Sebastian and Elthina asked me to go visit with an agent of the Divine.  Apparently I was supposed to tell her that things were all bright and shiny around here, which of course they aren’t.  Sebastian seems pretty irritated with me right now, but I wasn’t going to lie.  Not that I particularly care one way or another what the Chantry thinks of me, but Meredith and Orsino both are pretty out of control.  I don’t really want Orlais to step in, but if it would clear up the mess with those two then I’d be okay with it. _

 

_ But enough about that.  Padfoot is more than a little concerned about this thing with your teacher, and so am I.  I trained you well, though, or Isabela did anyway.  I think that you can handle whatever this school year throws at you, especially if you’re practicing with those books you bought.  Watch this guy, though.  You’ve spent enough time around some really evil people to know what that sort of thing feels and looks like.  Do what you have to do to keep yourself safe and, if it comes down to it, don’t feel bad about it.  Don’t hesitate to keep yourself safe if it turns out to be you or him, Harry.  Neither Padfoot nor I are interested in losing anyone else. _

 

_ Stay safe and take care, and this still isn’t sappy, _

_ Hawke _

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

He wished he could say otherwise, but when his name came out of the Goblet he wasn’t even really all that surprised.  What he wouldn’t give for one quiet year at school…

 

“I didn’t put my name in the Goblet,” he announced loudly in the silent hall.  It seemed like nobody believed him however, judging by the accusing looks shot in his general direction.  “No.  Seriously.  Does anybody here really think that I have the brainpower to get through that age line when the Headmaster himself set it up?”

 

But his words had no effect, and pretty soon he was back in the Gryffindor common room with Ron furious with him and Hermione attempting to play peacekeeper.  And, of course, competing in the damn tournament.  Which was fine, really, he wasn’t worried about that.  What he was worried about was the fact that someone was clearly trying to kill him again.

 

“How is this my life?” he asked the empty common room.  Ron had stormed off and Hermione had gone with him after giving Harry a sympathetic look.  The common room had emptied out pretty quickly once the drama was over.

 

“You do seem to attract all the wrong attention, don’t you?”  The familiar voice came from no one, and from right beside the couch he sat on.

 

Harry wished he’d been surprised about that, too, but there had been too many clues.  “I knew it,” he told Fenris.

 

“How could you possibly have known I was here?  I’m very quiet.  I know you didn’t hear me.”  Fenris seemed almost offended as he slipped out of Harry’s invisibility cloak.

 

Harry grinned.  “Hawke wouldn’t tell me where you were, to start with.”  And then he reconsidered his statement.  “Actually, no, I knew something was up when you didn’t come see me before I left Kirkwall.”

 

Fenris’ lip curled into a sneer.  “Like I would have gone to that mage’s funeral for any reason.”  And then he shot Harry a glare from the corner of his eye.  “Besides, why would I have come to see you?  You mistake me for someone who’s actually fond of you.”

 

Harry let himself sag into the couch.  “I’m really glad that you’re here,” he said, and ignored the slight to his character.  For all his bluster, he knew that Fenris didn’t really mean it.  “I’m pretty sure that somebody’s trying to kill me with this damn tournament.”

 

Fenris snorted, either in derision or amusement or both.  “Of course someone is,” he muttered.  “You’re just like Hawke.  Someone new always wants you dead.”

 

“Actually, they all sort of originate with the same person.”  Harry sighed.

 

“Here, sure, but you had a lot of people trying to kill you in Kirkwall that had nothing to do with this Voldemort.”  Fenris settled on the couch next to him.

 

Harry hesitated, then turned to Fenris.  “Maybe I should just withdraw from Hogwarts.  Say to hell with it and go back to Kirkwall.  There’s pretty good money in adventuring, after all.”

 

Fenris shrugged.  “You could.  I’d certainly get you back there safely.  But do you really want to run away?”

 

“No, I guess not.”  Harry sagged back into the couch.  “I just don’t want to fight in this tournament.  It isn’t that I’m afraid or anything, I mean, I’m pretty sure I have what it takes to win it, I just don’t want to.  I was looking forward to a quiet year.”

 

Fenris was silent beside him, and when Harry turned to look at him, the elf raised an eyebrow.  “What, did you want sympathy?  I have none.  I saw the way you enjoyed your adventures in Kirkwall, even after the dragon almost killed you.  You can’t possibly expect me to believe that you won’t enjoy this.”

 

“I won’t enjoy trying to figure out who’s behind it before whoever it is manages to kill me through the tournament,” Harry pointed out.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.  I’m certain that you already know who’s behind this.”

 

“Moody.”  Harry closed his eyes.  “Has to be.  It’s always the Defense teachers who try to kill me, and also he’s creepy and probably evil.”

 

Fenris snorted.  “It’s more the fact that he seemed incredibly comfortable with those Unforgivable curses that makes me suspect him, though I’m certain your reasons are adequate.”

 

“Don’t pick on me when I’m trying to figure out how to survive a school year, please,” Harry said, and opened one eye to glare at Fenris.  When Fenris only laughed, Harry let his eye fall closed again.

 

He was tired.  Very tired, and not just physically.  That Ron could believe those things of him hurt.  Didn’t Ron know him?  It wasn’t like they’d gone through three years of terrible adventures together or anything.  And Hermione… sure, he got it, she wanted to stay friends with both of them, but it would have been nice if she’d at least publicly tried to defend him.  Telling him that she believed him when nobody was there to hear wasn’t very helpful.

 

“Don’t fall asleep down here, brat,” Fenris said quietly beside him.  “I can’t carry you up to your dorm.  Someone might see me.”

 

Harry forced his eyes open.  “I wasn’t.”  He considered Fenris’ words and asked, “Should you really be without the cloak, then?”

 

Fenris shrugged.  “Probably not, but I did want to make sure that you were okay.”

 

Harry grinned as he stood and stretched.  “I knew you cared about me!”  That almost made up for Ron’s awful treatment of him.

 

Fenris shuddered.  “Absolutely not.  I was just doing my job.  Hawke sent me out here to take care of you, after all.  Keep you safe and all that.”

 

“Which obviously means checking up on me after I’ve had an emotional upset, right?”  Harry couldn’t help but tease the surly elf, even if it meant that he would pay for it later.  And yes, he knew that he would pay for it.

 

Fenris wasn’t the sort to let that go.

 

“Clearly you’re fine and I shouldn’t have worried,” the elf muttered.  He disappeared under the invisibility cloak before Harry could say anything else to him.

 

“You know that I can still talk to you when you’re under that thing, right?” Harry asked.  He started to head up the stairs to the dorm.  He should probably get to bed.  He was tired and had classes tomorrow to deal with.  And, if his second year had been any kind of example, he was pretty sure the general population of the castle wasn’t going to be kind to him.

 

“Yes, but you wouldn’t want people to think you were mad, would you?”

 

Harry laughed.  He couldn’t help it.  “They probably already do.  They certainly did in my second year.”

 

“Well, they aren’t entirely wrong, are they?  You must be mad to get along so well with Hawke and the others?”

 

“Yourself included?” Harry asked.

 

“Myself most assuredly included,” Fenris answered.  “Now go to bed.  You have to be up early tomorrow, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, mother,” Harry said, even as he started up the stairs once more.

 

“I could kill you in your sleep,” Fenris mused.  “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about this tournament of yours.  You’d be dead.”

 

“Wouldn’t that defeat the point of your being my bodyguard?” Harry wondered.  He stood outside the door to his dorm, trying to steel himself to open the door.  Who knew what was waiting on the other side?

 

“It might be worth it.”  And then, before Harry could respond, the door swung open all on its own.  Fenris probably opened it, the bastard.  “Go to sleep, brat,” Fenris whispered in his ear, and then fell silent.

 

Harry went into the dorm and was relieved to find that everyone else was already asleep.  He could delay any more awkward conversations until tomorrow.  That was good.

 

He got ready for bed and slid under the covers.  He forced himself to close his eyes and drifted off wondering what the next day would bring.  Nothing good, considering how this one had gone.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

_ Dear Hawke, _

 

_ Remember that tournament I mentioned that I couldn’t enter because I wasn’t old enough to do so?  Yeah, about that.  Guess who’s fighting in the tournament?  Somebody put my name in.  I’m… not exactly thrilled with that, actually, because I’m pretty sure that somebody’s trying to kill me by putting me into this tournament.  And by somebody, I’d like to be clear that I’m pretty sure I know who, but I don’t want to say in case this letter gets intercepted. _

 

_ But I have to say, I’m not all that concerned.  Do you know why, cousin-mine?  Because I find myself incredibly well-guarded, considering that I was under the impression that I would be alone at the school this year.  Do you know anything about that, Hawke?  Maybe there’s a certain person who used to work as a bodyguard for a Tevinter Magister that might be lurking around Hogwarts?  Yeah, I found him.  You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think you are, and you should leave the sneakiness to Isabela and Varric. _

 

_ Anyway, I thought about just withdrawing from Hogwarts and walking away from this thing before it did actually manage to kill me, because apparently the tournament itself has killed students before, but I decided that I could handle it.  At least, I think I can.  What do you think?  Should I just come back to Kirkwall and give up on Hogwarts?  I think four years worth of adventuring when I was supposed to just be going to school is a bit much, isn’t it? _

 

_ No love today, just too tired, _

_ Harry _

 

_ You sarcastic little nuisance, _

 

_ First of all, I have no idea what you’re talking about when you mention a certain pointy-eared grouch who thinks that corpses make proper deterrents to thieves.  Side note:  corpses are excellent deterrents to thieves.  Do you know what else is good for a thief problem?  Mabari.  Blade cornered a thief in my closet upstairs, and you should have seen that guy crying!  I let him go, of course, so that he could tell all of his little thiefy friends about my good dog and made sure to give Blade a nice treat for his excellent catch. _

 

_ But back to the person you think you found, I know nothing about the person who may or may not be lurking around Hogwarts, except that it was perhaps implied that terrible things happen to you every year at that school and perhaps someone who is as invested in your personal safety as your bodyguard is might consider following you to the school.  That’s my answer and that’s all I’ll say about that. _

 

_ To the main purpose of your letter:  this tournament.  Drop out of school because of it?  Don’t be ridiculous!  I bet the winner of the tournament gets lots of shiny little gold things.  Why would you drop out of the tournament when there’s gold to be earned?  I have no doubt that you can slaughter the competition, perhaps literally if it comes to it.  Also, let’s face it, you want to stay involved in this tournament.  I spent a whole summer gallivanting around a city with you and you never tried to back out of coming with me, not even after I almost got you killed with that damn dragon.  So don’t even kid yourself, kiddo.  You want to do this tournament thing, and that’s okay.  So go do the tournament thing to the best of your ability and win us lots of shiny little gold bits. _

 

_ Also, Padfoot says that we’re both being horribly irresponsible by not encouraging you to drop out and come back to Kirkwall.  He says that Aveline would be ashamed.  I say that’s all the more reason to go for it.  And remember: just because you’re actually competing in this tournament now isn’t an excuse to get yourself killed, brat.   _

 

_ Stay safe and win this thing, _

_ Hawke _

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Just before the Weighing of the Wands ceremony, Harry let himself be pulled into the closet, mostly because he was sort of curious about where this conversation was going.  He’d never been pulled into a closet by an older woman before.  Fenris had to be having a small cow outside the door, though.  He wondered if maybe he shouldn’t get out before Fenris knocked the door down, then dismissed the idea.  He didn’t want to hurt the lady after all.

 

“So, Mr. Potter,” Skeeter simpered.  “Would you like to tell me all about being the youngest champion to compete in this year’s tournament?”

 

“Erm… no?” he hazarded.  He supposed that wasn’t the right answer to give because the woman gave him a look.

 

Her quill began to move.   _ Reluctant to talk about his place as the youngest champion, the famous Mr. Potter shows a surprising amount of humility, considering the rumors that abound about him. _

 

“Your quill seems to be running away with you,” he pointed out, and Skeeter laughed.

 

“Oh, Harry, you are a charmer.  Tell me, do you think your parents would be proud of you for entering the tournament?”

 

“Well, I didn’t enter the tournament, and also I never knew them so I couldn’t say for sure.”

 

The quill continued to write.   _ Mr. Potter, after insisting once more that he never entered the tournament, refused to answer this reporter’s questions about his parents.  One might wonder what he has to hide?  Perhaps he is unaware that he need not hide his grief at their loss from us, his loyal fans. _

 

“Okay, seriously, the quill is just insulting now.  How could I grieve for them if I didn’t know them?”  Harry rolled his eyes.  “Interview over.”

 

He reached out, plucked the still-writing quill off the piece of parchment, and snapped it in half.  He stepped out of the closet leaving the reporter gaping behind him, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.  He felt Fenris brush up against his back and grinned.  Oh, yeah, Fenris had been worried.

 

That was sort of adorable, actually.  Making his surly bodyguard nervous could turn out to be a hobby of his.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“Dragons,” Harry announced to Fenris as soon as he got back from his trip with Hagrid.  He met the elf back where he’d left him in the passageway to the Shrieking Shack.  It was one of the few places that he could be certain Fenris wouldn’t be discovered while Harry made use of his cloak.

 

“That… seems incredibly dangerous, actually,” the elf said grimly.  “What exactly are you supposed to do about them?”

 

Harry laughed, a hysterical tinge to the laughter.  “I have no idea!  Even if I joke about killing the one outside of Kirkwall by myself, you and I both know that it took all five of us to take her down.”

 

Fenris was scowling when he took the invisibility cloak back from Harry, though he didn’t yet put it on.  “Can you take your daggers into the fight?”

 

Harry shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  I’m pretty sure it’s just our wands and our clothing that we’re allowed to carry in.”  He considered it.  “I suppose I could summon them, though.  There’s a charm for that.”

 

“Do they want you to die?  No child could take on a fully-grown dragon and survive.”

 

“I… huh.  No, they don’t want us to die.  I mean, I think the person who’s trying to kill me wants me dead, but I don’t think that, in general, the tournament is designed to kill students.  Which means that we can’t possibly be expected to defeat the dragons.”  Harry sagged with relief as something else occurred to him.  “They’re also a protected species here.  Killing them is illegal.”

 

Fenris stared at him.  “Your people actually protect dragons?”  He shook his head.  “I always knew that mages were mad, but that’s just ridiculous.”

 

Harry brightened suddenly as an idea came to him.  “Hey, do you remember the end of the fight with the… no, wait, you were unconscious for that.”

 

Fenris’ lyrium tattoos lit for a second and the elf growled, “Was there a point to that question?  Or were you simply trying to remind me of my inadequacies?”

 

Harry hesitated.  Fenris… didn’t like magic.  That he’d agreed to come to a school where magic was taught was something of a miracle, actually, and Harry wasn’t entirely sure why he’d done it since Hawke had allegedly not insisted that he do so.  He might not like hearing about an ability that was entirely magical.  On the other hand… it wasn’t like he didn’t know Harry was a wizard.

 

“Well?”

 

“At the end of the fight, I spoke to the dragon and Varric said that he thought she understood,” Harry finally said.  “If we’re just supposed to get around these dragons, maybe all I have to do is talk to them.”   
  


Fenris snorted.  “And what’s your backup plan in case the dwarf took too many knocks on the head during the fight to know what he was talking about?”

 

Harry hesitated.  “Summon my daggers, I guess.  That tooth Hawke gave me technically counts as clothing, and it should help protect me from the dragon’s flames.”  He shrugged.  “I could probably also summon my broomstick and fly around it, though that seems like it would be asking for trouble.”

 

“Flying by a creature that makes its living partially in the air?  No, I can’t see how that would cause any trouble at all.”  Fenris rolled his eyes.  “Stick with your first plan.  It seems the most likely to succeed.”

 

Harry sighed.  “Sounds like a plan,” he muttered.  “Now, onto the next problem.  How do I tell Cedric about the dragons?”

 

“Is that really your responsibility?”

 

Harry shrugged.  “I think it is.  I mean, I know about them and I would bet money that Fleur and Victor will know soon enough as well.  Madame Maxine was in the woods with us, and I’m pretty sure I spotted Karkaroff too.  It wouldn’t be fair to Cedric if he were the only one who didn’t know.”

 

Fenris slipped the cloak back on and his disembodied voice said, “Then I would just walk up and tell him.  If you feel like you have to, that is.”

 

So that was what Harry did.  The next morning, he got up early and pulled Cedric aside as soon as he could.  The other Hogwarts champion, while dubious, did come with him.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Well… it might be that I know what we’re up against in the first task and I wanted to warn you, but if you’re going to be mean about it…”  Harry trailed off and turned away.  He didn’t need this shit this early in the morning.

 

“No, wait, sorry.”  Cedric laughed a little.  “I guess I’m a little touchy.  How did you find out about the first task?”

 

“Hagrid showed me.  You know how much he loves monsters that no sane being would like to hang around.  Anyway, the first task has something to do with dragons.  They have four of them out in the forest.”

 

Cedric blanched.  “Oh.”  He swallowed once.  “Well then.  Why are you telling me this, anyway?” he asked.

 

Harry sighed.  “Because dragons are no fun to fight when you don’t know that they’re coming.  Seriously.  Have you ever fought a dragon when you weren’t expecting it?  It is  _ not _ fun to be wandering around, minding your own business, when a couple tons of dragon just drops out of the sky and starts attacking people.”

 

Cedric said nothing, but simply stared at Harry.  His mouth was open a little as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t think of what he wanted to say.

 

Harry shrugged.  “I guess not.  Anyway, I just wanted to warn you.  In the spirit of being fair and all.”  He turned and walked away.

 

As he did so, Cedric must have found his voice because he called after him, “Thank you Harry!”

 

Harry lifted a hand in acknowledgement and kept walking.  He didn’t want to be late to class.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry supposed that he should have been more nervous than he was, standing in the tent waiting to face his dragon.  A Horntail.  Of course he would get the worst of the lot.  He could hear shouting from outside as the competition began.  First Cedric went, then Fleur, then Viktor.  Harry knew when one of the champions was injured because the crowd went wild.  It happened for both Cedric and Fleur.

 

Harry just hoped that they wouldn’t have a cause to cheer like that when it was his turn to fight.  Nervously he fingered the necklace.  Hopefully, with its strong fire enchantments, it would be enough to keep him safe.  With his luck it wouldn’t do any good at all.

 

Then he was being sent out onto the field of battle. He took a minute, hidden in the shadows of the cover of a particularly large rock, to assess the field before him.  The dragon was large, perhaps as large as the one he’d helped to kill in Kirkwall.  And she was angry, too, prowling before her eggs and snapping at the air.  He could see the one he was supposed to get, the golden one, but getting past the dragon to get to it would be tricky.

 

That was to say, it would be tricky if his plan didn’t work.

 

He stepped out from the shadow of the rock outcropping and waited for the dragon to notice him.  “Hello, pretty,” he shouted to her.  Obviously it wasn’t in parseltongue because the crowd laughed at him.  That was okay, laughing at him wasn’t as bad as screaming because he’d been killed.

 

He closed his eyes and pulled up the mental image of a snake.  He opened his eyes and tried again, this time with the snake’s image kept firmly in mind.  “~Hello, pretty!~”  The crowd went entirely silent.

 

The dragon stopped her low growl and cocked her head to one side.  Then, to Harry’s amazement, she spoke.  “~A Speaker.  We have not seen one of your kind in many a century, little one.~”  She let out a soft huff of flame, a gentle puff that wasn’t even really a threat.  “~Tell me, Speaker, are you interested in learning to Sing for us?~”

 

“~Not at the moment, no,~” Harry said.  “~Please don’t be offended,~” he added hastily.

 

She let out a series of soft huffs that Harry realized after a moment were laughter.  “~I am not offended,~” she assured him.  “~But if you seek not to Sing, then what brings you before old Benezza?~”

 

“~I’m afraid that I have to take that egg behind you.  Not one of your eggs, of course.  It’s a fake egg.  So you shouldn’t mind letting me take it at all, should you?~”  He really hoped she didn’t mind.  He wasn’t sure how he was going to get around her if she did.

 

She considered the matter.  Finally, after several silent and tense moments, she shook her massive head.  “~I’m sorry, but the egg you gesture to is the most beautiful of them all.  If it is not one of my eggs, which I can of course see that it is not, I will add it to my hoard.  The humans who serve me do not often bring me proper tribute.~”

 

“~Right.  Well, then, I guess I’ll have to take it.~”  Harry stepped forward, then stopped to consider his next move.  

 

Retrospectively, this was rather foolish of him because that gave the dragon enough time to fire off a gout of flame in his general direction.  He dodged, but she was a quick thing and flamed once more at him.  This time, the flame hit.  He winced, expecting pain, but it never came.  Instead, it seemed as though an invisible forcefield held the flames back from him.

 

Which… was not what he was expecting, actually.  He pulled his pendant out from underneath his shirt once the flames had stopped.  The pendant was hot, uncomfortably so, and glowing fiercely.  Well.  That was pretty handy.  He should probably let Hawke no.

 

“~How is it that a scaleless being such as yourself is resistant to the power of my flame?~” Benezza the dragon asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

 

“~Hm?~” Harry looked up at her, just remembering that now wasn’t really the time to think about writing Hawke about this pendant of his.  He should probably concentrate on getting that egg and getting out of this alive.  “~This pendant was from the high dragon I helped kill outside of Kirkwall,~” he told her.

 

She froze.  It was as though she’d looked into the eyes of a basilisk or been carved out of stone all along.  He’d never seen a living being go so completely still before.  “~You… what?~” she… squeaked.  Really, could a dragon like her squeak?  But that sounded like what she’d done.  Her voice was certainly much higher than it had been.

 

Harry seized the advantage his words had apparently given him.  “~Oh, yes, I helped to kill a dragon outside of Kirkwall just this year.  It was my blades that dealt the killing blow to her.  I got her right in the eye, first, taking it out.  Then, once I was on top of her, I got her in the roof of her mouth.  Death, at that point, was pretty instant.~”  He paused and looked up at Benezza with something like his cousin’s bloodthirsty grin.  “~It would be a shame if something like that were to happen to you and your eggs, wouldn’t it?  Over something so minor as a shiny little egg?  I mean, I was trying to resolve this peacefully, but if it’s a fight you want...~”

 

She lowered herself to the ground and bowed her head in a submissive posture.  “~Take the egg and leave me and my children in peace, if you please,~” she whispered.

 

When he walked calmly past her and grabbed the egg, the crowd went wild.  The full marks from the judges were nowhere near as rewarding as having talked a dragon into submission.  He’d be certain to tell Varric all about it.  The dwarf would get a kick out of it.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“Harry, my boy, do you have a moment?”  The Headmaster was waiting for him outside of the tent after Madame Pomfrey had looked him over.

 

Harry most definitely did not want to have a moment for the Headmaster, but he supposed he should.  “I guess,” he said, not bothering to hide his reluctance.

 

He followed him to his office in silence and, when they arrived, settled himself across from the Headmaster.  He declined the old man’s offer of candy and simply sat there, waiting.  He didn’t wait long.

 

“I must admit, I was rather surprised by your use of Parseltongue out there on the field of battle.  Surprised, and perhaps a bit disappointed.  Harry, that is a very dark skill.  That you would use it so openly…”  The Headmaster shook his head.

 

Harry snorted.  “Seriously?” he asked.  “That’s what you’re here to talk to me about?  The fact that I openly used Parseltongue?”  He shook his head.  “I’m three years younger than the other contestants.  They’re far more advanced, magically speaking, than I am.  I’ll use any and every advantage I’ve got considering that I’m being forced to compete.”

 

The Headmaster sighed.  “Perhaps your point is valid.”  He popped a lemon drop into his mouth.  “The other thing I wanted to ask about was the pendant you wore.  Why did it frighten your dragon so much?”

 

Harry pulled it out from under his shirt.  “Because I told her that it was the tooth of the dragon I helped to kill while in Kirkwall,” he said.

 

The Headmaster paled.  “A clever tale,” he managed.

 

“Not a tale.”  Harry grinned.  “I was the one who dealt the death blow.  Granted, it nearly killed me and there were four other people with me when I did it, but I was the one who finally killed her.”

 

The Headmaster was silent for several moments.  When he spoke, his words were slow and careful.  “And can you see, Harry, why I would be incredibly reluctant to allow you to return there next summer?  Outrealm is terribly dangerous, Harry, and I wouldn’t see you killed there.”

 

“No, you’d rather see me killed in a tournament,” Harry said, and stood.  “I think I’m done talking.  I’ve had a long day, Headmaster, and I’d like to get some rest.

 

He turned and left and the Headmaster was wise enough not to attempt to stop him.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Ron was waiting for him outside of the common room.  He’d tried to get Harry’s attention right after the task had ended, but Harry hadn’t given him the chance to talk.  He’d just brushed past the redhead and continued on.  He had nothing to say to him.  And then the Headmaster had wanted to see him, letting Harry put the conversation off even further.

 

Unfortunately, he knew that he couldn’t avoid Ron forever.  “What?” he asked shortly.  He was still hurt by the terrible things Ron had said about him the night that his name had come from the Goblet.

 

“Listen, Harry, that task was really dangerous.  You could have been killed!”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  “I, for one, am shocked by that.  Did you really think that these tasks were going to be all fun and games?  People die in this tournament, Ron!”

 

“I just… maybe you’re right.  Maybe somebody really is trying to get you killed.”  Ron looked down and away.  “I’m really sorry,” he said after a moment of silence.

 

Rage began to build within him, dark and angry and fierce.  He let it build and let it out of him in a hiss of air between his teeth.  “Apology not accepted,” was all he allowed himself to say.  If he said anything else he might do something he regretted.  Like stab Ron in his treacherous little face.

 

“Harry!  I didn’t mean what I said.  I was angry, really angry.  You can’t just not accept my apology!”  Ron reached out and grabbed Harry by the shoulder.

 

Harry ducked his hold and had Ron on the floor, a dagger at his throat in under a second.  “Well, Ron,” he said with a pleasant little smile, “I’m still angry.  Really angry.  Angry enough that I could shove this dagger into your throat and probably not regret it all that much.”  He pulled back and sheathed his dagger.  “But I’m not going to, because unlike you I realize that things have consequences, and there are some things that a simple sorry doesn’t make up for.”

 

When he turned on his heel and walked away from the common room, Ron didn’t try to stop him.

 

“Once a traitor, always a traitor,” Fenris said softly to him.

 

Harry wished that he could disagree, because there was a small part of him that really wanted his friend back.  Unfortunately, he absolutely agreed with Fenris.  Traitors could never be trusted.


	4. Chapter Three:  Fourth Year, Part Two

_ Dear Hawke, _

 

_ You’ll be pleased to know that I kicked ass at the first task.  I don’t know that I actually ever told you what the first task was going to be, mostly because I didn’t know what it was.  Turns out I had to take a golden egg from a nesting dragon.  Without hurting either the dragon or her eggs.  Have you ever tried to take something from a nesting dragon without hurting it?  Guess what.  It isn’t easy.  Fleur got her skirt set on fire and Cedric got himself set on fire.  Krum got some of the dragon’s eggs smashed.  I am the only one who came out with a perfect score.  _

 

_ And do you want to know how I did it?  I don’t even know why I’m asking.  Of course you do.  I bluffed the dragon. _

 

_ Ha!  That’s right, you did in fact read that correctly.  I bluffed the dragon.  I talked it into backing down and giving me the egg.  Who’s the awesome one now, huh? _

 

_ Now if I could just figure out the clue inside the egg, that would be excellent. _

 

_ All my awesomeness, _

_ Harry _

 

_ Hawke, _

 

_ I am dictating this to the person who is sending our letters over to you.  I couldn’t let this pass without warning you that your cousin is a madman.  I don’t suppose he told you that in order to bluff the dragon he let himself nearly be roasted alive.  Apparently that pendant of his stopped the flame from touching him but it was terrifying to watch him engulfed in a dragon’s flame.  Please make him not scare me like that again. _

 

_ -Fenris _

 

_ Harry, _

 

_ What did Fenris mean when he said that you were ‘engulfed in flame’?  I mean, good job on bluffing the dragon down, but didn’t Padfoot and I tell you to be careful?  Being engulfed in flames does not sound like being careful.  In fact, if you ask me, it sounds like sort of the opposite.  Try to make your next victory in this tournament just a bit less horrifying for your guard, please. _

 

_ Also, other news:  there’s been some craziness with some dwarves running around and attacking me.  It hasn’t been too bad yet, so I’m mostly putting them down as they come, but it’s getting a little annoying.  They keep talking about ‘the blood of the Hawke,’ whatever that means.  If you have to kill any crazy little dwarves in front of your Hogwarts friends, I’d like to apologize in advance.  You are, after all, loosely a Hawke.  I think.  I’m not sure, actually, what side of me you’re related on.  And if I’m not sure, the dwarves probably won’t be either. _

 

_ Kill them if they come after you and let me know if they do.  We might have to actually try trailing them back to wherever the hell they’re coming from or something.  I’ll see how annoying they get.  For now, they’re providing me with non-political adventure and lots of shiny bits for killing them. _

 

_ Now, I’m off to go meet one of Varric’s contacts named Edge.  Isabela suspects an ambush, but we’ll have to see. _

 

_ Your favorite cousin, _

_ Hawke _

 

_ Harry! _

 

_ You might just be my favorite apprentice.  And that includes the Hero of Ferelden, who was excellent in bed.  Bluffing a dragon?  That’s one for the record books.  Just scrawling this out quickly before Varric, Hawke, Merrill, and I go and get ourselves killed in an ambush.  Say hello to Fenris for me! _

 

_ Also, don’t for a moment think that just because you managed to bluff down a dragon doesn’t mean that I won’t still ambush you when you come back to Kirkwall.  It’s still coming, so you’d better be prepared. _

 

_ -Isabela _

 

_ Lightning, _

 

_ I hear you put that talent of yours to good use with a dragon.  That’s the sort of thing I like to hear about!  You’ll have to give me the whole story once you return.  Just don’t be surprised if the story’s already known in the Hanged Man before you tell it to me.  A dwarf’s gotta keep up his reputation for wild and completely true tales. _

 

_ -Varric _

 

_ Serah Potter, _

 

_ I would sincerely appreciate it if you could refrain from telling your cousin anything that would make him any more excitable than he already is.  Although I’m certain he hasn’t told you so, he spent the night in the custody of my guards after celebrating your victory over the dragon.  The celebration would have been fine, I suppose, had he not decided to re-enact your heroic conquering of the dragon’s flame with Merrill.  In the middle of the Viscount’s Keep.  In the middle of the day.  I was dealing with scorched nobles for the next week.  Your compliance in this matter would be greatly appreciated. _

 

_ -Aveline Vallen, _

_ Captain of the Kirkwall Guard _

  
  


ooOOooOOoo

 

Figuring out the egg turned out to be something of a nightmare.  Harry quickly grew frustrated with his efforts and turned his attention to other things.  Since he wasn’t speaking to Ron still, despite Hermione’s pleas for him to accept Ron’s apology, that meant that he turned his attention to his studies for what was most assuredly the first time in his career as a Hogwarts student.  This was fine, as it meant that he was spending a great deal of his free time in the library.  And nobody could bother him in the library.

 

Nobody, that was to say, except for Fenris who was currently poking him sharply in the back.  Exasperated, Harry gathered his books and stalked out of the library.  He made a few turns and climbed a few staircases and, when he certain that he was alone, he hissed at the elf, “What?”

 

“Your people are appalling,” the elf hissed at him.  There was a rage in Fenris’ tone that Harry had never heard directed at him, but had occasionally heard on the rare times that Fenris would speak of Tevinter.

 

He blanched.  “What are you talking about?” he asked, not even bothering to be quiet.  Nobody was around anyway, so what did it matter?  Nobody ever came up to this area of the school.

 

“I’m talking about those things in your kitchens!” Fenris snarled.  He threw the cloak off of him and glowered at Harry.  His lyrium tattoos were glowing faintly in his irritated state.  His hands were clenched into fists and he looked prepared to run someone through.

 

Harry just hoped that the someone in question wasn’t him.  “What things in the kitchens?”

 

“The creatures.  The… the house elves,” Fenris snarled.

 

“Oh.”  Harry shifted awkwardly.  “Those.”  He looked anywhere but at Fenris as he said, “I can see why they would bother you.”

 

“They are slaves.”

 

“You aren’t wrong,” Harry agreed.  “But, Fenris, it isn’t like it was for you.  They… they like doing all the work.  They’re happy working like this.  House elves receive joy from performing tasks for people.  Even Dobby, who wanted to be free, is still happiest when he’s working.”

 

“There are those that would say the same of the elves in Tevinter.  Would you argue that I was happiest when being a slave?”  There was a silken, soft, deadly quality to Fenris’ voice that made Harry shiver a bit.

 

He stared down at his feet.  “I wouldn’t.  Of course I wouldn’t.  You know me, Fenris.  Would I ever support owning a slave?”  He didn’t dare look up.

 

“Before this very moment, I had thought not.”  Fenris snorted.  “All you humans are alike.  I should have known.”

 

Harry’s head jerked with the hurt that statement caused.  “That’s not fair!”  He looked up, then, anger simmering within him.  “You can’t just say that I’m a horrible person because of the house elves.  Have you met them?  Have you spoken to them?  They aren’t like you, Fenris, they aren’t like the elves in the Imperium!  They love to serve.  It’s what makes them happy!  And sure, okay, some of their masters are horrible people that should be put down but that just means that there should be laws in place to protect them!”

 

“Are you through justifying your institutional slavery to me?”  Fenris sounded almost bored.  He obviously wasn’t going to listen to anything that Harry had to say.

 

Which was fine.  “Whatever, Fenris,” Harry said, all of the fight draining from him.  “You’re right and I’m wrong.  Obviously you know what’s best for creatures that you’ve never even spoken to, who aren’t even the same species as you.”

 

Fenris opened his mouth to speak, doubtlessly to say something cutting, and Harry raised his hand.  “No, really.  I’m not arguing about this with you.”

 

He walked away from the elf and felt Fenris’ gaze burning into his back until he started down the stairs.  He wasn’t certain, but he didn’t hear the faint rustle of a cloak or anything.  Clearly Fenris wasn’t following him.

 

That was fine, too.  He’d made it for three years in this damn school without a bodyguard.  He didn’t need one this year, either.  He could figure out Moody all on his own, and win the tournament too.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

A week later, Harry had neither heard from nor seen Fenris.  He was almost certain that the elf had gone back to Kirkwall.  He told himself that the only reason he was upset was because the elf had likely taken the cloak back with him, and that would have been useful in the weeks to come.  But at least he still had his map, and that was almost as good.

 

Classes were going well, his extracurricular studies were going well, and if he was a bit lonely, well, who cared?  He’d been lonely for the first eleven years of his life.  He could handle it again.  It was simple enough to be lonely.

 

Of course, Ron was still driving him crazy even if Harry wasn’t talking to him still.  “I’m going to ask her,” he was saying.  “I really am.  One of these days, I’m just going to walk right up to her and ask her to the ball.  She’s bound to say yes!”

 

Harry rolled his eyes as he finished up his lunch.  Of course she wouldn’t.  Fleur Delacour could have any male student she wanted in Hogwarts, and probably some of the professors too.  She was certainly gorgeous enough for all of them, given the way that everyone of the male gender went mad over her.  Harry, personally, wasn’t that interested in her.  She was pretty enough, he supposed, academically speaking, but he certainly wouldn’t go mad for her.

 

But… he smirked, wiped his hands and mouth on his napkin, and stood.  He crossed the room to where the Beauxbatons’ champion was sitting and asked, “Might I have the honor of accompanying you to the Yule Ball?”

 

Fleur stared up at him, a small smile making the corner of her lip twitch up.  “And why should I want to have you accompany me?”

 

He shrugged.  “Really I’m just asking because I’m tired of hearing all the boys in my house talk about how you’re sure to go with them.  If you’d like to go with me, that’s two problems solved for me because I don’t really want to take anybody here to a ball, and I’m tired of hearing them talk about you.  If you’d rather not, I’ll find someone else soon enough.”

 

Her laugh was startlingly beautiful.  “Monsieur Potter, it will be your great honor to accompany me to the ball.  I shall inform you of what we are wearing shortly, so that you may have time to acquire the appropriate robes.  You will kiss my hand, now.”  She offered him her hand and, as commanded, Harry raised it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to it.  “Now go away.  We must laugh about you behind your back.”  She waved him off.

 

“Never let it be said that I can deny the will of a lovely woman,” he said.  He swept into a gallant bow he’d seen Hawke use once before, straightened, and left the now-silent Great Hall with a smile on his lips and a bounce in his step.

 

There was a soft, familiar snort from behind him.  “Bold, Potter,” Fenris muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

 

Fenris said nothing more, but Harry relaxed all the same.  Fenris was still here.  Maybe that meant he hadn’t ruined their friendship completely.  He would give it some time, then, and maybe see about talking to Fenris about the house-elves once more.  Or maybe he would just let it rest and hope that Fenris got over it.

 

Or maybe Isabela would give up drinking and join the Chantry.  Stranger things had happened, he supposed, but not many.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“I can’t believe you asked her to the ball!” Ron shouted.  He picked something up that was close at hand and chucked it at Harry with all of his strength.

 

All things said, the throw was rather pathetic.  Dodging the throw would have been too easy, but plucking the shiny thing out of the air was even simpler.  He looked down at the chocolate frog in his hand, shrugged, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.  What damage Ron had thought he could do with it was a mystery, but a delicious mystery.

 

“You weren’t going to ask her,” he finally said with a shrug once he’d finished chewing.  “You were just going to talk about it for the next week or so and not ask anyone at all.  In a way, I’ve done you a favor.  She probably wouldn’t have said yes, anyway.”  Harry laughed.  “In fact, she probably would have verbally eviscerated you if you had asked her.  She seems like something of a maneater.”

 

“But you didn’t know that when you asked her!” Ron wailed.  He drew his wand and pointed it at Harry, but before he could utter his next syllable the wand flew from his hand and disappeared as though he’d never drawn it.

 

Hermione, standing behind Ron, frowned severely.  She opened her mouth to say something but was drowned out before she could when Ron shouted, “My wand!  Give it back!”

 

Harry shrugged again.  “I didn’t take it.  That said, if you’re going to irresponsibly wave your wand around, you should expect some consequences.”  He felt the wood of Ron’s wand press into his hand as Fenris handed it to him.  He considered, then tossed it back to Ron.  “But, even if I didn’t take it, I’ll return it to you anyway.  Because, as irresponsible as you were being with it, I’m certain that you weren’t going to curse me.”  Harry smiled the innocent smile he’d learned from his cousin.

 

That sweet little smile worked on Ron the way that Hawke’s smiles tended to work on the nobles.  “Of course not,” Ron said quickly.  He shoved his wand into his pocket and backed up a few steps.  “Sorry.”

 

Harry’s smile never faded when he said, “That’s what I thought.”  He turned, then, and threw over his shoulder, “Now if you don’t mind, I need to get back to figuring out this egg.  I’m off to the library to see what I can find.”

 

Ron said nothing in response, and Harry presumed that he and Hermione had left in a different direction.  Perhaps the two were headed back to the common room to work on S.P.E.W. or something.  And then Harry heard Fenris let out a grunt of pain and he knew that at least one of the two hadn’t left as he’d thought.

 

“Seriously?” he asked, and turned to glare at Hermione, who appeared to be holding on to nothing.  Which, of course, meant that she was holding on to Fenris.  “How did you even-”

 

“That isn’t any of your business, Harry James Potter,” Hermione said in a low hiss.  “You get whoever’s under this cloak out of Hogwarts right now before he gets arrested!  Are you both crazy?  The Aurors have been looking everywhere for him!”

 

“You think-”  Harry cut off with a small snort.  “That’s not who’s here at all.  All right, Hermione.  Come with us, then.”  He started walking, and supposed that Hermione was following.  He led them to the passage to Honeydukes and ducked into it.  When he turned, Hermione still had her grip on what had to be Fenris’ arm.  “Tell me you didn’t walk here like that.”

 

She scowled.  “It was the only way to make sure he didn’t wander off.  Harry, you can’t let him stay here!  It isn’t safe.”

 

“Hermione, that isn’t Sirius.  Fenris, if you’d be so kind?”

 

Hermione’s gasp when Fenris jerked the cloak off was worth the trouble that could come of telling her.  “You… aren’t Sirius,” she managed to say through her surprise.

 

“No.  I am not that flea-bitten mongrel,” Fenris snarled.  “And if you ever lay hands on me like that again, little girl, I”ll show you why Hawke’s cousin chose me to guard him.”

 

Harry laid a hesitant hand on Fenris’ shoulder, and let it rest more heavily when he wasn’t shrugged off.  “She didn’t realize who you were, Fenris.  And she didn’t know about your aversion to-”

 

“Finish that sentence, brat,” Fenris snarled, and shrugged off Harry’s hand.  “She shouldn’t go putting her hands on people when she isn’t sure who they are.  That is a dangerous game to play.”

 

Hermione cleared her throat and said carefully, “I’m sorry, and you’re right.  I shouldn’t have touched you without knowing who you were.”  She hesitated, then asked, “And I’m sorry, but who are you?”

 

Fenris snorted.  “I am Fenris.  I guarded Harry throughout his summer at Kirkwall, and I’ve continued to guard him during his time at Hogwarts.  Hawke didn’t trust his cousin to be able to come back in one piece without a guard.”

 

“Hogwarts is the safest place in the world!” Hermione said, indignant.

 

Harry laughed loudly.  “Really, ‘Mione?  Maybe for other students, sure, but not for me!  Think about it.  Every year somebody or something tries to kill me.  First year it was Quirrell.  Second year, the basilisk.  Third year, no matter how accidental, it was Lupin.  Fourth year, and now I’ve got this damn tournament.  You really think Hawke was wrong to send me with a guard?”

 

Hermione looked down.  “When you put it like that, I suppose not.”  She brightened, then.  “Maybe you could talk to the Headmaster!  If you told him your concerns, I’m sure he’d let you have a guard.  Maybe an Auror or something.”

 

Harry shook his head.  “Nope.  I don’t trust the Headmaster anymore, not really.  You can’t think that I haven’t noticed that Hogwarts was perfectly safe until I started coming to school here.  Also, don’t tell me that he couldn’t do something about my competing in this tournament.  I couldn’t have crossed the age line, so he knows that I didn’t put my name in.  And yet, I’m still fighting in it.  Tell me that isn’t suspicious.”

 

Hermione deflated all over again.  “You’re right,” she said with a small sigh.  “I just don’t like to think of the Headmaster having anything less than your best interest at heart.”

 

Harry offered her a sympathetic smile.  “It’s a hard thing to get used to, seeing murder and intrigue around every corner.  I learned in Kirkwall, and sometimes I wish I hadn’t.”  His smile turned into a slightly bloodthirsty grin, then.  “And then I remember that I’m pretty damn awesome, now, and I stop worrying about it.”

 

Hermione nodded.  “You are pretty awesome,” she said agreeably.  Then she took a deep breath and steeled herself.  “You said you were going to the library to work with the egg.  Did you want a hand with that?”

 

Harry eyed Fenris, who still hadn’t put the cloak back on but was instead leaning nonchalantly against the side of the tunnel, examining his hand.  “Actually, I think that maybe Fenris and I need to talk, and then I’ll head to the library.  Meet you there?”

 

She smiled.  “Yeah, sounds good.”  With one last look at Fenris, Hermione ducked out of the passageway.

 

Once she was gone, Fenris looked up at him, an uncomfortable expression on his face.  “What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked.

 

“About the argument we had,” Harry answered.  He, too, leaned against a wall.  The opposite one, so that he wasn’t crowding Fenris.  He knew how the former slave disliked being crowded.

 

“I would rather not discuss it,” Fenris muttered.  He looked away.

 

Harry thought over what he wanted to say, then shrugged.  He’d say it anyway.  “I’m not willing to not discuss this and maybe lose our friendship,” he said.  “Because despite what you say, I think of you as a very good friend.”

 

“I don’t have many of those, even now.  More than I did before your cousin, of course, but not as many as some might like.”  Fenris was watching him through his eyelashes, Harry was certain.  He could feel the weight of Fenris’ gaze.

 

“You’re one of the best I’ve ever had.  And… I’m sorry.  You, of all people, know what it’s like to be enslaved and to have other beings think it’s best for you.  Maybe you’re wrong about the house elves, I don’t know.  But I should have at least listened to your concerns, and I didn’t do that.  For that, I’m sorry.”

 

Fenris was silent for what felt like forever but could really only have been several moments at the most.  Finally, quietly, he said, “And the house elves?”

 

“I don’t know enough about them to say anything.  Perhaps we could go down and speak to them together when we have some time.  Or, I’m certain there are books in the library.  We could research them.”

 

Fenris’ lip curled and Harry immediately realized his mistake.  “I cannot research anything.  Your cousin isn’t the best of teachers and gave up after only a few lessons.”

 

Before Harry could stop himself he blurted out, “We could work on it together!”  And then blushed.  That was more than a little awkward, actually.

 

But Fenris actually looked pleased.  “I would like that,” he said, and a small smile appeared on his face.  “But during the summer, perhaps.  When it will not interfere with your studies here.”

 

Harry grinned.  “My studies here are going just fine, thank you very much.  In fact, they’re going better now than they have in the years before since I’m actually reading my books and doing all of my homework.”

 

“A trend that I would be loathe to interrupt,” Fenris teased.  He stood up straight, then, and slid into the cloak.  His disembodied voice said, “Perhaps we should go and meet your friend, now, before she comes looking for us.”

 

Harry laughed softly.  “Not a terrible idea.”  Hermione would, too.  With the way she’d stared at Fenris, she probably worried that he would hurt Harry or something.  Not that Harry thought that Fenris would ever do that, of course, but Harry wasn’t Hermione.  She was so very paranoid.  It was her fault that he’d almost lost his Firebolt last year, after all.

 

He left the tunnel with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.  He and Fenris had reconciled.  He had a date for the Yule Ball.  He and Hermione were talking again.  The year was on its way up, he supposed.

 

Now if only he could figure out that damned egg.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The time passed quickly with the ball to prepare for and the egg to figure out.

 

Fleur was adamant that they both look their best for the ball and, rather than allowing Harry to pick out his own dress robes, she took his measurements and asked him a series of rapid questions about style preferences.  A few days after that, Fleur named an exorbitant amount of galleons as the price for the robes she’d already ordered for him, and Harry wisely gave her the gold without objection.  Not arguing with a beautiful woman seemed like a pretty wise idea to him.

 

He didn’t see what he’d paid for until the night of the ball, when the box was delivered to his room.  Apparently his money was well-spent.  The robes were quite handsome, and honestly they were quite possibly the nicest piece of clothing he’d ever owned.  Wearing them certainly wouldn’t be a chore, except that he’d probably worry about spilling something on them instead of having fun.

 

“Your date chose well,” Fenris muttered to him, his breath only just stirring Harry’s hair as he walked down the Great Hall.

 

Harry grinned.  “Better than I would have chosen,” he breathed back.  He shot a glance at Ron, looking miserable in a ruffled monstrosity.  “Better than other people might have chosen, too.”

 

Fenris snorted, then fell silent as Harry greeted Fleur.  He presented himself to her with a flourishing bow that made her lips quirk into a small smile.  “You look lovely,” he said, once he’d risen from the bow.

 

Her smile softened around the edges.  “And you, Monsieur Potter, clean up quite well.  I never would have guessed.”

 

“It helps that I had someone with an excellent eye picking out my clothes for me,” he offered, and offered her his arm as well.

 

Her bell-like laugh drew the attention of everyone around them as she took his arm.  Harry flushed at the sudden scrutiny.  Well then.  That sort of sucked, actually, to know that he could still be so easily embarrassed.  He should probably work on getting over that.  Maybe he’d mention it to Hawke, who would definitely delight in embarrassing him as much as possible and call it helping.  On second thought, maybe he’d better not.

 

And then it was time to actually open the Ball and Harry was more than a little terrified.  He’d never danced in front of so many people before, and wasn’t entirely confident in his ability to dance at all.  Fortunately, Fleur knew what she was doing, and Harry managed it with the occasional whispered correction from her.  He must have done well enough at faking it, because at the end of the dance Fleur was nodding approvingly at him.

 

The ball, after the opening dance, was a wild success in more ways than one.  He had an excellent time with Fleur, especially once the formal dancing was over and the infinitely more fun dances started.  They spent their time with the other champions and their dates and had an excellent time.  Ron, on the other hand, sulked in a corner for most of the night.  Harry felt a bit of sympathy for him, but honestly was mostly amused.  If Ron weren’t so determined to be miserable, he probably would have been able to have a great time just like Harry was.

 

The true success of the evening, however, was when Harry was on a punch run for himself and Fleur.  Moody had been lurking around the snack table with what looked like a perpetual scowl on his face, Harry had noticed on one of his other runs.  The Professor was incredibly invested in watching the students, so absorbed in it that it was no trouble at all for Harry to trip and fall into the man.

 

“Watch where you’re going, Potter,” the Professor growled.

 

Harry backed up several steps.  “I’m sorry, sir!  I didn’t mean it!”  He gave Moody a wide berth as he continued on to the punch.

 

“What did you take?” Fenris whispered in his ear as he stood in the line for the punch.

 

In answer, Harry passed him Moody’s flask.  He was almost certain that what was in the flask was no kind of drink.  It was probably a potion of some sort, like perhaps Polyjuice.  That would nearly confirm that Moody was the one who had placed his name in the Goblet.  The why, of course, would still be a mystery.  At least if the flask contained Polyjuice the question of who had done it would be answered.  Sort of.  He wouldn’t know who Moody was, but he’d know he wasn’t who he was supposed to be.

 

“Keep hold of that for me until I can figure out what’s in it,” he breathed as he carried the punch back to Fleur.  He smiled as he handed it to her.  “Did you miss me?”

 

“Like a toothache,” Cedric laughed, an easy arm slung around Cho.  Viktor and Hermione joined him in his laughter.

 

“Rude!” Harry grinned, and the ball went on as a raging success.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The next afternoon, Harry dragged Hermione to the last place they’d used when doing illicit things with potions:  Myrtle’s bathroom.  He only hoped that this particular thing didn’t take months to figure out.  He wasn’t sure he could put up with Myrtle for that long.

 

Once they were there, Fenris took off the cloak and passed the flask to Harry.  “We need to figure out what’s in this,” Harry told Hermione.

 

“Harry!”  Hermione’s shriek was scandalized and Harry winced at the way it echoed in the bathroom.  “Is that Professor Moody’s flask?”

 

“It is,” Harry said.  He twisted it open and grimaced at the smell of it.  “It definitely isn’t alcohol or any other drink I know of.”

 

“You… Harry, you stole from a Professor?”  Hermione shuddered.  “What if he catches you?”

 

Harry shrugged.  “He probably knew it was me anyway.  I’m the only one who bumped into him last night that I know of.  Most of the students were doing their best to avoid him.”

 

“How did you even steal it from him, anyway?” Hermione asked.  She took the flask from him and sniffed it as she asked the question.

 

“Isabela taught me how to do a lot of things when I was working under her.  Killing people was just one of those things, and not even the most useful.”

 

Fenris snorted.  “Count yourself lucky that she wasn’t here for the opening you just gave her.”

 

Harry thought about it, then rolled his eyes.  “Isabela takes any opening she can get,” he muttered.

 

“If we’re through making dirty jokes,” Hermione said stiffly.  “There’s one way to figure out what exactly the potion is.”  And then, before Harry could stop her, she took a quick mouthful of whatever was in the flask.

 

“Have you lost your mind?” Harry shouted even as she began to change into Moody.

 

“Oh, please,” Hermione said, and it was very strange to hear Moody speak like Hermione.  “Moody drank from that flask all the time.  It couldn’t have been poison or anything like it.”

 

Harry gritted his teeth.  “Two problems with that:  One, we didn’t know that I managed to get the flask that he drinks from regularly.  For all we know, I could have grabbed the decoy that he keeps on him for just such an occasion.  Two, now you’re stuck as Moody.”

 

Hermione scowled.  “I hadn’t thought of the decoy flask,” she muttered.  “So maybe that was a bit reckless of me.  But at least now we know what it is and we can go to the Headmaster with it!”

 

Harry stared at her in silence and wondered if she’d figure it out on her own or if he would have to tell her.  When she stared back, confused at his silence, he sighed.  “Hermione, think about it.  Wasn’t Moody one of the Headmaster’s friends?  Isn’t that how he got him to take the post in the first place?”

 

Moody’s face looked perplexed.  It was an odd expression to see on his face.  “Well, yes, I would assume that had something to do with it.  Why else would Professor Moody have come to Hogwarts after retiring?”

 

“Right.  So, if Moody and the Headmaster are such great friends, don’t you think the Headmaster would have noticed that Moody wasn’t Moody?”

 

Hermione’s confusion turned to anger quickly.  “Harry, that’s not fair!  Maybe whoever’s pretending to be Moody is just that good of an actor!”

 

Harry shook his head.  “Come on, Hermione.  It’s too much for me to even consider going to the Headmaster.  Him not noticing that his friend wasn’t really the same person?  Sure, I guess that could happen.  Him not noticing that when a student’s name was placed into the Goblet of Fire when the student couldn’t possibly have done it himself?  Maybe… but when you consider that it’s the same student that almost dies every school year, don’t you think he might have looked into this, or something, before now?  I don’t think our evidence is going to do any good.”

 

Hermione’s scowl was fierce.  “He couldn’t stop the tournament-”

 

“Bullshit he couldn’t!” Harry exploded.  “He didn’t want to, sure, but he could have done so if he’d chosen to.  Don’t tell me that he couldn’t have.”

 

“I just…”  Hermione let out a small huff of air.  “I just think that maybe you should go and talk to him, Harry.  At least let him know that you’re suspicious.”

 

“That would not be wise,” Fenris said, and Harry watched Hermione jump as she remembered that he was in the room.  “If the Headmaster is truly in league with those who want to hurt Harry, this could only tip them off.”

 

“You can’t possibly think that…”  Hermione trailed off, and it was incredibly odd to hear Moody sound so horrified.  “Harry, the Headmaster doesn’t want you hurt.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “I’m finding it really hard to argue with the evidence, ‘Mione.”  There was silence in the bathroom for several moments, then Harry stood.  “Well.  We know what’s in the flask now, so that’s something at least.  Now we know that Moody’s definitely an imposter, which means that Fenris will be keeping a sharp eye on him.  Probably sharper than the Headmaster would, if he even believed us.”

 

Hermione nodded, misery clear in her face.  “I still think that we should go to him with this, but if you think it’s best, Harry…”

 

“I really do.  And Fenris won’t let him hurt anyone, will you?”  This he asked Fenris directly.

 

The elf looked annoyed.  “You’re my primary concern,” he said flatly.

 

“But if I wasn’t in any danger and Moody was hurting someone,” Harry said leadingly.

 

“I would step in if it was safe to do so,” Fenris agreed begrudgingly.

 

“It’ll have to do, I guess,” Hermione said with a sigh.  “Now what do we do about me until the potion wears off?”

 

Harry grinned.  “I don’t know.  Let me know when it does, okay?” he said, and darted towards the exit.

 

“Harry, you can’t leave me like this!” Hermione shouted.

 

As the door was closing Harry called back to her, “Careful, you don’t want people to realize you’re in there!”

 

The door closed seconds later as Fenris slipped out, safely hidden under the cloak.  “That was cruel,” the elf said as they walked away from the bathroom.

 

“She was really stupid for drinking from the flask without knowing what it was.  I think, as far as punishments go, this one’s pretty mild.  Imagine what Hawke would have done to me if I’d done something like that.”  Harry shuddered at the thought.

 

“An excellent point,” Fenris agreed after a moment of consideration.  “I take it we’ll spend the rest of the day in the library figuring out the egg?”

 

“Or we’ll die trying,” Harry said cheerfully, and headed to the library.

 

“Hopefully it won’t come to anything so dire as that,” Fenris muttered.

 

ooOOooOOoo

  
Harry wasn’t sure what to expect for Christmas.  He’d sent gifts back for everyone (the butterbeer for Isabela was his best and he was just sorry that he wouldn’t be around to see her face when she drank it, especially since he’d left off the ‘butter’ on the card he’d sent), but wasn’t exactly expecting to get anything in return.  Kirkwall, and Thedas in general, didn’t seem to celebrate Christmas.  They had some another holiday around that time, he thought, but it wasn’t Yule or Christmas.

 

So he was more than a little surprised when he opened his eyes Christmas morning to find a pile of gifts in front of his bed.  There were the usual things, chocolates and stuff from Hagrid and his classmates, and the usual sweater from Mrs. Weasley, who probably hadn’t heard about the falling out between him and Ron just yet, but there were several gifts besides those.

 

The largest and flattest was from Hawke, and there was a note attached signed by all of his friends from Kirkwall, and even from those who he might not have necessarily considered his friend, like Aveline.  Of course, he’d sent her something so maybe she was just sending something along out of politeness.

 

The note attached read:

 

_ Dear Harry, _

 

_ Padfoot mentioned that this holiday was one of gift giving, and that you would probably send us things without expecting anything in return.  Well.  That’s just silly, so we’ve all sent something along.  Make good use of everything, as we went with the theme of things that would help you stay alive when we can’t be there to make you stay alive.  Well.  Most of us did, anyway.  Aveline didn’t want to encourage you to be irresponsible, and Varric said he had to make up for that.  And Padfoot said that the last time he sent you something at school it didn’t go so well, so he was going to wait and give you his gift in person.  We’ll see you soon enough, because you will stay alive, dammit. _

 

_ Oh, and before you fuss about the expense of my gift to you, because I know you will, don’t worry!  I came into a lot of coin recently after my misadventure with Tallis.  That friend of Varric’s that I mentioned we were going to meet really did set us up for an ambush, but it all worked out in the end.  Well.  Sort of.  I helped a Qunari agent and I feel dirty about that.  But I got a lot of gold out of it, so there’s that.  And when I say a lot, I mean I could have probably swum in it. _

 

_ Now why didn’t I think to try that before I used some of it?  Damn. _

 

_ Happy… Christmas, is it?  Merry Christmas?  Whatever. _

_ Hawke _

 

Harry was laughing as he opened Hawke’s gift, and he choked on his laughter.  “Oh boy,” he breathed, drawing the attention of the boys in the dormitory.

 

“What’s that?” Neville asked, coming over to look into the box.  “Merlin, Harry!” he gasped.

 

“What’d you get?” Seamus had come over now, too, curious.  Ron, Harry could see, was peering over while trying not to look like he was curious.  He was failing miserably at it.

 

“It’s…”  Harry paused and cleared his throat.  “It’s armor.  Meant to be worn under my robes, I think.”  It was leather, butter-soft and reinforced over vital places like his heart.  When he picked it up the top, he realized that it was actually two pieces of leather with something like chainmail inside.  It was too heavy to be just leather alone.  “He had to have commissioned this for me,” Harry continued in a faint whisper.  Although he knew that teenagers like himself wore armor Outrealm, he’d never seen one wearing it.  He assumed it was left for nobles and knights in training, and was more expensive than he could have afforded.  Besides, Isabela had told him that a rogue who needed armor was a dead one.

 

“Won’t do you any good against magic,” Ron pointed out somewhat snidely.

 

Harry studied the detailing on the armor and grinned.  Let Ron think that.  He recognized the markings from the Sandal’s enchantments.  He’d seen them often enough on Hawke and on his friends.  “Yeah, but they would have kept that dragon from doing too much damage if she’d bitten me,” he said peacefully, and set it aside.  Hawke was right, though.  He’d be panicking about how much he’d clearly cost his cousin if he hadn’t been told not to.

 

From Merrill he received a dagger small enough to slip into his shoe.  The small note attached to it told him that was its purpose, anyway, because otherwise he would have been trying to figure out what to do with a dagger that was barely the size of his pinkie.  He supposed that would be useful in a pinch, just like the small daggers he always wore around his arms.

 

Isabela sent him poison.  He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he actually was.  Her note informed him that it was deadly, and that he should be very careful when applying it to his weapons so that he not kill himself with it.  It would be a very embarrassing end for a student of hers, she said, and she would see to it that his funeral took place with him in the frilliest, pinkest dress she could find if he killed himself with her poison.  He was very careful with the vial.

 

From Varric he received something that Varric doubtlessly considered to be worth more than anything:  information.  The information was from some of his contacts Outrealm, and said that a human resembling Peter Pettigrew, may he rest in peace, had been spotted wandering around Little Hangleton.  Varric didn’t know if there was any truth to the rumor, but thought that if Harry were wanting to go seeking justice for his godfather, that might not be a bad place to start.

 

Sebastian sent him a religious text and a pair of candles, that he might be able to pray to Andraste.  Harry’s lips twitched into a smile at the sight of it and set it aside with no intention of ever reading it.  He supposed it was the thought that counted, though.  He would include a thank you to the man no matter how ill thought out his gift had been.

 

Aveline, the last to send him a gift, sent him a book detailing his cousin’s exploits in the years before Harry had met him.  It appeared to be written by Varric, though Harry was almost certain he saw a few phrases that screamed Isabela just in the first few pages alone.  It had him snickering only a few lines in.  Varric, and Isabela, definitely knew how to tell stories.  And Aveline knew how to give a great gift.

 

He would have to write out thank you letters to all of his friends, but first he had something else to do.

 

He made his way out of the dorm and out of the common room and out to the passageway to Honeydukes.  There, he said to Fenris, “Come on, I’ve got a present for you, you know.”

 

“I don’t have anything for you,” Fenris said, even as he obediently took off the cloak.

 

“That’s fine,” Harry said dismissively.  “I wanted to give you this, though, and please don’t laugh.”  The package was thin and flat and Harry figured that Fenris would either kill him or not for the gift and the intention behind it.

 

“Am I to open this now?” Fenris asked, one eyebrow raised.

 

“I mean, you don’t have to, but yes.  You should definitely open it now.”  Harry was a little nervous about it.  He really hoped that Fenris would like it, but then, Fenris didn’t like much of anything.  Maybe he should have gone with his first instinct and given Fenris a bottle or two of butterbeer as well.

 

Instead he’d given him… Harry winced when the cover of the children’s book was unveiled.  Three of them were in the stack, and Fenris studied them curiously.  “You know that I cannot read,” he said.

 

“No, I know.”  Harry grinned because at least Fenris didn’t seem angry.  He’d asked Hermione for recommendations for good children’s books, and she’d been thrilled to help, especially when he’d told her why he wanted them.   “These are children’s books.  They’re meant to teach you how to read.  I thought we could start with these and see where we got.”

 

Hermione had also given him the names of a few writing primers, but he figured they would start with reading first.  One frustrating thing at a time, because Fenris got vicious when he was frustrated.  That, doubtlessly, had something to do with Hawke’s giving up on teaching him.

 

Fenris had a faint smile on his face.  “They’re mostly pictures,” he pointed out as he flipped through the one on the top of the stack.  “Although I am almost certain that I can follow the story based on the pictures alone.  Is that the intention?”

 

“The pictures help figure out what the text says,” Harry said cheerfully.  “Did you want to start now?” he asked, even as his stomach let out a pathetic little rumble.

 

Fenris snorted.  “I would, but I think your stomach might attempt to digest itself should we actually attempt to do so.”  He stared down at the books for a silent moment, his lips parted as though he had something more to say.  Harry waited patiently, and eventually was rewarded when Fenris looked up with a faint, genuine smile on his face.  “Thank you, Harry.  This means more to me than I can say.”

 

“You’re most welcome,” Harry answered.  He could feel his cheeks pinking up and looked away.  “We should probably go eat.  Or I should.  You know, Fenris, I didn’t think to ask, how are you getting food?”

 

Fenris snorted.  “I’m sure you’d like to know,” the elf said, and put the cloak on.

 

Harry frowned as the entrance to the passage opened.  “I would like to know.  How are you eating?  Fenris?”  There was no answer from the elf and Harry sighed.  He supposed he would know by now if Fenris weren’t eating enough because the elf would have collapsed.  And now that Fenris knew where the kitchens were, perhaps that was where he was getting his food.

 

“Just tell me if you need help with that,” he said, and a faint snort of laughter was his only answer.

 

He went to breakfast and tried not to feel guilty as he stuffed himself silly full of the delicious breakfast food.  If slipped a few things into a napkin to give to Fenris later, well, nobody noticed anyway.  And it made him feel better, so Fenris would just have to take them and put up with his fussing.  For all Harry knew, the elf had been living off of whatever edible things he could find in the forest and in other odd places.

 

That wasn’t okay.  He would have to make certain that Fenris was well-fed, because he was certain that Fenris would never say if he wasn’t.  And since Fenris wasn’t willing to say where or what he was eating, well, he’d just have to put up with Harry’s worrying.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“You don’t need to keep feeding me,” Fenris said a week later, exasperation clear in his voice.

 

Harry grinned.  “You won’t tell me where you’re eating, or how you’re eating, so I’m just doing my best to look out for you.”  He set the food he’d obtained from the house elves down for Fenris.

 

“You don’t…  I’m here to look after you!  I certainly don’t need your help taking care of myself.  I have…”  Fenris stopped, and Harry could feel the burn as Fenris glared at him.

 

“You have what?” Harry asked, his grin widening.  He’d never known that giving Fenris food would make him so irritable.  It was mildly entertaining.  “I can’t have my bodyguard starving, you know.  It wouldn’t do.  Just think what Hawke would do to me if I let you starve to death!”

 

“You realize that I brought food, right?” Fenris asked, obviously forcing the words through gritted teeth even though Harry couldn’t see him.  The tone of his voice made it clear enough.

 

“No, I didn’t because you wouldn’t tell me.”  Harry wrinkled his nose.  “But those… what, travelling supplies?  Those can’t be as good as the stuff the house elves make.”

 

“It isn’t.  And once I found out about them, I did start going to them for food.  It has become overwhelmingly obvious that they would be horrified if they were ever freed.  I… do not understand them, but they seem to enjoy where they are right now.”  Fenris took off the cloak, then, a confused expression on his face.  “How can they enjoy being enslaved?”

 

“I don’t know,” Harry said with a small sigh.  “I know I didn’t like growing up with the Dursleys doing all of their chores, and I know that you had terrible experiences, and I know that the Malfoys were horrible to Dobby, but he still loves working for other people.  It’s… weird.”  He shrugged, uncomfortable with the subject.  House elves made him uncomfortable, to be honest.  They were so eager for jobs to do and so happy when finally given a task.  And it was almost impossible to reign them in, hence the massive basket of food for Fenris.

 

“Well, at least with this I won’t have to go to them for some time,” Fenris said, and settled on the floor to begin going through the basket.

 

“You know, that reminds me, where are you sleeping?  And when, for that matter?”  It was another thing that hadn’t occurred to Harry until right this moment, as he watched the elf calmly sort through the food in the basket.

 

Fenris laughed softly.  “I sleep when you sleep, actually, downstairs on one of the couches in the corner.  Nobody who wakes early ever goes for that one first, and I always hear them coming down the stairs long before they actually make it to the common room.”

 

“Oh.”  That made sense, Harry supposed.  More sense than the thought that Fenris was some kind of super elf who didn’t need to sleep or anything.

 

“Any other questions you feel the need to pester me with before returning to the world at large?” Fenris raised one eyebrow at him, a slight smirk on his face.

 

“Actually, now that you mention it,” Harry began, and stopped long enough for Fenris to let out an irritated groan.  “What?”

 

“I am perfectly fine,” Fenris said, stressing every syllable of the word perfectly.  “I do not need you looking after me like some kind of demented mother hen.  My job here is to look after you, and it does not need to be the other way around.”

 

“I wasn’t going to ask anything about that!” Harry objected.  “I was actually going to ask you something about Varric’s Christmas present, if you don’t mind.”

 

“What about it?” Fenris asked warily.  “I’ll tell you right now, as much as your godfather doesn’t annoy me, I’m not about to abandon you to go track down that Peter Pettigrew.”

 

“Oh!” Harry laughed a little.  “That wasn’t what I was going to ask you to do at all, actually.  What I really want to do is go track him down myself, but I wanted to know if you would come with me to do it.”

 

Fenris’ eyebrow, which had just gone down, went up once more.  “You wish to abandon your school to go track down the one who betrayed your parents?  Not that I don’t see the worth of such an action, but do you really think it wise to leave school in the middle of this tournament?”

 

“No, I know that I can’t leave in the middle of the tournament.  I want to win it, after all, and I know that I can’t do that if I’m not here to participate in all of the tasks.  Actually, I was thinking about going after Pettigrew as soon as school lets out, before going back to Kirkwall.  What do you think?”

 

“The idea isn’t without merit, but how will we know that he’s still there?  Just because Varric’s tracked him there for now doesn’t mean that he’ll stay there.  If I were him, I would keep running forever after having betrayed someone you look upon so highly.”

 

Harry laughed.  “Are you saying you’re frightened of me?”

 

“I’m saying that it would be foolish to anger one such as you and not consider the consequences of doing so.  Hawke and Isabela have trained you well, and I cannot imagine either of them allowing such a slight to pass unremarked.”

 

“Fair point,” Harry acknowledged with a nod of his head.  “Neither of them would let something like that slide by.  But, to be fair to Pettigrew, I hadn’t trained with them when I first met the man.  If I had, I probably would have let Sirius kill him because a dead man can’t run away.  I would have then used his body to force the Wizengamot into allowing Sirius a trial.”

 

“And is that what you intend to do when you catch him?” Fenris asked.  “Because that certainly seems like a worthy plan.”

 

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to, now.  Sirius has been on the run for over a year, now.  Two years almost, by the time we can go after Peter.  They might take that as too much of a sign of his guilt to consider granting him a trial.”

 

Fenris scowled.  “From what I understood, part of Sirius’ initial crime was that he killed Pettigrew.  Is that not correct?”

 

“It is, but he also allegedly killed thirteen Muggles.  Or something like that.”  Harry shrugged.  “Just because Pettigrew survived the assault doesn’t mean that Sirius didn’t still kill the Muggles.  But if I can take him alive, well, that’s a whole different story.  Then he can be tried before Sirius turns himself in, and the truth about Sirius’ innocence should come out.”

 

“Then that is what we will do.  We’ll take him alive and prove your godfather’s innocence.  If we can.”

 

“Excellent.  Then I’ll go ahead and send a letter to Varric, asking him if he’d be kind enough to keep an eye on the rat for me.  That way if he moves before we can get to him we’ll have an easier time of finding him.”

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“Cedric told me to take a bath with the egg and maybe that would help,” Harry said to Hermione only a few weeks before the second task was to begin.

 

“Cedric told you what?” Hermione asked.  “That makes very little sense, Harry.  Are you sure he isn’t just trying to keep you from working on the egg yourself?”

 

Harry shrugged.  “It isn’t like I have any other ideas,” Harry pointed out.  “Besides, he’s probably trying to be fair since I told him about the dragons in the first task.  What do I have to lose for listening to him?”

 

Hermione sighed.  “Do as you want, I guess,” she said, and went back to her book.

 

Harry took the egg and left the common room, despite it being after curfew.  In fact, it was because it was after curfew that he was going now, Marauder’s Map in hand.  Prefects weren’t likely to be bathing after hours.  At least, he hoped there weren’t any in there when he got there.  

 

Making his way to the prefects’ bathroom was easy, as was using the password Cedric had given him to get into it.  He held the door open long enough that Fenris could slip in after him, then closed it behind him.  “You should be safe enough in here,” he said to Fenris.

 

“Are you certain?” Fenris asked.  He didn’t take off the cloak.

 

Harry couldn’t blame him.  The bathroom was bright and open and airy, and Fenris had avoided being visible in any of those places for the past several months.  “Well, boys and girls can both use this, so I would assume that the door locks itself when somebody’s in.  Or maybe there’s an ‘occupied’ message or something.  But I can’t imagine they would just let boys and girls bathe together so there must be some way that others would know not to come in.”

 

“Though I cannot find fault with your logic,” Fenris muttered, “I’m certain it must be there.”  Nevertheless, he slipped out of the cloak.  “Are you really planning on taking a bath with that thing?”

 

“I don’t really have a choice,” Harry said.  He began to strip out of his clothes and, once naked, fiddled with the taps until the tub began to fill with water.  “I only have a few weeks now to figure out what to do about the second task, and this egg has all the clues I’m going to get.”

 

“It seems odd to me,” Fenris muttered.

 

Harry sagged into the now-full bath and studied the egg sitting on the tile next to him.  He didn’t really want to open it to hear it scream at him, again, so instead he focused on how nice it was to take an actual bath rather than the shower that he was normally stuck with.  In fact… “You know, this is really nice,” he said to Fenris.  “You could join me if you wanted.”

 

Fenris stared at him in silence until Harry realized that he’d just effectively asked the elf to get naked with him.  Harry blushed and looked away.  “Or not,” he muttered.

 

“I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing it.  He’s not anything like the prefects that come in here all the time,” a familiar, pouty voice said.

 

Harry sighed.  “Hello Myrtle,” he said to the ghost, and tried not to feel self-conscious about the fact that he was naked under all of the bubbles.

 

Fortunately, she wasn’t looking at him at all.  In fact, she was staring at Fenris with what could only be a hungry look in her eyes.  It was really disturbing, actually.  Gross, even.  “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to take a bath with Harry, there?  Maybe you two could play together in the water.  Letting the soap suds run over your firm bodies…”  Myrtle trailed off into a small sigh, her eyes closed and a tiny little smile on her face.

 

Harry was more than a little grossed out.  Fenris appeared incredibly insulted.  “I am not here to be gawked over,” he snarled.  He pulled the cloak back on so that neither of them could see him.

 

Myrtle pouted.  “Fine then!” she shouted at him.  “See if I tell Harry to open the egg under water, then!”

 

And then she vanished into the floor.  Harry laughed, he couldn’t help it.  For a ghost who’d been around for longer than he’d been alive, Myrtle was probably the most childish person he’d ever met.

 

“I am glad that you can take your amusement at my expense,” Fenris said frostily.

 

Harry’s laughter stopped immediately and all amusement vanished.  “I wasn’t laughing at you,” he said instantly.  “Just at her childishness.  You had every right to be offended.”

 

Fenris let out a soft noise.  “At least she gave you a clue,” he pointed out.  “Awful as the ghost is.  I would like to kill her again, but I suppose that isn’t actually possible.”

 

“Probably not.  And the thought of how she got the clue is a little unnerving, actually.”  He shuddered at the thought of Myrtle watching Cedric in the bath.  And then he shuddered again because he wondered if there was anything keeping her out of the bathrooms in Gryffindor tower.  Shouldn’t the school have protections in place for creepy things like that, anyway?

 

“Are you okay?” Fenris asked.  His voice sounded close, though Harry couldn’t quite figure out where he was.  The cloak was obnoxious like that.  Fenris probably enjoyed being able to sneak around.  He was just glad that Hawke had sent Fenris and not Isabela.  The thought of her with the cloak... 

 

Harry shuddered again.  “I’m fine,” he said in answer to Fenris’ question.  “Just having some really disturbing thoughts of things like Isabela with the cloak and Myrtle watching me shower.”

 

“Disturbing thoughts indeed,” Fenris said with the appropriate amount of gravity.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed because he wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t being teased, then brushed it aside.  “Right.  Well, I’m going to try going under with the egg, then.  We’ll see what happens when I try it.”

 

He ducked under the water with the egg before Fenris could comment.  When he came up, he was frowning and all thoughts other than the strange poem had been pushed aside.  “They’re going to take something of mine, and they’re going to hide it somewhere where I’ll only have an hour to get it back.  The only question is…”  He stopped, his eyes lighting on the portrait of the mermaid in the room.  “The only question is how the hell am I going to get to it at the bottom of the lake?”

 

“Can you not swim?”

 

Harry laughed.  “Not well, and not to the bottom of the lake.  I’ve got a month to try and figure something out, I suppose,” he said with a sigh.  He stood, then, and picked the egg up.  “Back to the common room, then, and I’ll see if Hermione is willing to lend me a hand with breathing underwater.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Fenris said quietly.

 

It was only after Harry was dressed and headed back to the common room that he realized that he didn’t know if Fenris had been looking while he’d been naked or not.  For some reason, the thought of Fenris seeing him like that was incredibly embarrassing.  Harry hadn’t thought of himself as particularly body-shy, given that he shared the showers with a bunch of rowdy boys and he had no trouble showering in locker rooms, but apparently he was where Fenris was concerned.

 

He forced himself to brush it off as something strange.  He’d get over it.  Besides, Fenris probably hadn’t been looking.  Why would he be?

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry was pretty sure that he owed Dobby a million and one socks for finding him the Gillyweed.  In fact, no, he owed Dobby a million and two, because giving the house elf unmatching socks just wasn’t a very nice thing to do.  He would give Dobby all the socks that he could find, actually.  Billions of socks for the house elf.

 

Because without the Gillyweed, he’d be standing on the shore looking like an idiot while everybody else went after something that they’d miss the most.  Because of Dobby, he was able to move through the water quickly and easily, and not even need to worry about coming up for air.  Considering that he couldn’t swim and definitely couldn’t breathe underwater without the Gillyweed, Dobby was officially the best elf ever.

 

When he came to the merpeople’s village, though, he stopped and stared.  There was… there was no way.  They hadn’t taken things at all, they’d taken people!  Harry couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.  At least now he knew for sure that there was no way that the ‘things’ taken by the merpeople wouldn’t be returned in good condition.  He couldn’t see the person who was obviously his hostage agreeing to be taken with even a chance that he might die, and he couldn’t imagine anyone the Headmaster had sent actually managing to take him down and force him into being a hostage.

 

Harry swam forward and began to untie his hostage.  It wasn’t even that hard, once he made judicious use of the one of the knives he’d strapped against his thighs under his swim shorts .  Before a few moments had passed he had his hostage safely on his back and was swimming up for the surface.

 

He returned only minutes before the hour time limit expired, only to find Fleur already up on the docks, crying brokenly.  He felt terrible, but he was certain that her hostage was in no danger.  Hawke never would have allowed himself to be put at the bottom of a lake if there’d been any real danger.  His cousin was too much of a survivor for that.

 

“You okay?” Harry asked once Hawke had begun to wake up.

 

Hawke glowered at him, no trace of a smile on his lips, and brushed his sodden hair out of his eyes.  “I’m soaked, I’m cold, and I just spent a few hours at the bottom of a lake.  Do you really think that I’m okay?”

 

“I think that you’ll be just fine,” Harry said cheerfully, and clapped him on the back.  Hawke didn’t stagger, but his lips did twitch only slightly into a small smile.  “Did you remember anything down there?” he asked as they waited for the other champions to return with their hostages.

 

“I was out cold.  Your Headmaster placed us all into some sort of enchanted sleep.  It was… weird, actually.  I almost want to take the time to figure out how he did it, because putting my enemies to sleep like that could be really useful, actually.”  Hawke shrugged, then.  “I don’t think he likes me much, though, so he probably wouldn’t teach me.”

 

Cedric came back then, Cho in his arms.  Hawke and Harry both fell silent and waited until Viktor and Hermione broke the surface of the water.  Moments later the merpeople appeared with the little girl who could only be a relative of Fleur’s in their arms.  The judges conferred, and Harry was entirely unsurprised to walk away from the second task with his second perfect score of the tournament.  That placed him definitively in the lead for the third task.

 

He grinned, because that was one step closer to winning the whole tournament.  He could definitely do that.  Hawke nearly knocked him over at the news of his score with the heavy pat on the back he got from his cousin.

 

“Nice job,” Hawke said to him, one soggy hand resting on his head.  “Say, Headmaster, do you mind if I make good on our deal and talk to Harry here for a bit before I head back Outrealm?”

 

The Headmaster nodded once.  “Please, feel free.  I’ve no doubt that your cousin can show you an out of the way place within the castle for you to talk to him.”   
  


“Thanks, old man.”  Hawke grinned down at his cousin.  “So.  Want to show me around the castle where you’ve almost died so many times?”

 

“I feel like that really isn’t a fair assessment,” Harry muttered, even as he began the trek back up to Hogwarts.  He pointed out a few places as he walked, such as the Whomping Willow where Ron had crashed the car and where they’d gone after Ron and Sirius.  “And everywhere else interesting is either really out of our way or too deep into the castle.  I’m pretty sure the Headmaster doesn’t want me showing you the Chamber of Secrets.”

 

“Do we care what he thinks?” Hawke asked interestedly.

 

“Only because he can make the next three years of my life a living hell,” Harry answered honestly.  “I’d rather not get too far onto his bad side.”

 

It was up at the entrance to the castle that he felt it.  Just the slightest prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck and he was ducking down and away and hearing a blade sing as it went over his head.  He heard someone scream and then he was too busy fighting for his life to pay any attention to whoever it was.  His opponent was quick and vicious and helped along by crossbow bolts fired from some high vantage point.  The bolts didn’t stop until he had Isabela held at knifepoint from behind, the tip of one of his daggers pressing gently against the flesh of her throat.

 

“Seriously?” he asked, and didn’t let her go.  It wasn’t over until she said it was, after all.

 

“I did warn you,” Isabela said cheerfully, seemingly unconcerned with her precarious position.  “All right then, I guess you’re keeping up your practice well enough.  You can let me go now.”  

 

“But you didn’t say the magic words,” he teased.  Still, he didn’t drop the dagger.  She hadn’t surrendered, and that meant that theoretically the match was still on.

 

She laughed, and he heard Varric echoing the sound from a window up above.  How the dwarf had gotten into the castle and found a good spot he wasn’t entirely certain, but the Headmaster should probably be more careful about the wards on the castle.

 

“Okay then, brat.  I’ll say it.  I surrender,” she said, a mocking lilt to her voice.

 

Harry let her go and immediately jumped away just in case she intended revenge anyway.  She didn’t move to attack him, though, and he gradually relaxed.  Unfortunately, the group that had been following him up to the castle wasn’t relaxed at all.

 

“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione was shrieking.  “She could have killed you!”

 

“Oh, please,” Isabela muttered, and began picking at her nails with her dagger.  “Like he could have taken me if I’d meant anything by it.”

 

Harry ignored her and concentrated on calming Hermione, and the irate teachers behind her, down a bit.  “It’s fine, really.  It was just a training exercise.  I knew it was coming.”  A total lie, really, because he hadn’t realized that Isabela had come with Hawke, but if he’d known she had then he would have expected the attack.  And nobody needed to know that he hadn’t known it was coming.  That wouldn’t be helpful at all.

 

“Be that as it may, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall began, her lips pursed into a frown, ”none of us knew it was coming.  I would ask that your… friends not do such things on school grounds.  Somebody with less training could have been hurt!”

 

He saw Isabela open her mouth out of the corner of his eye and spoke over the pirate before she could lose her temper.  “Of course, Professor,” he said immediately.  “I’m very sorry about this.  It won’t happen again.”

 

Professor McGonagall let out a small, disbelieving noise, but nodded once.  “Very well.  Off with you, then, before your time to visit with your cousin is spent out here, brawling like Muggles.”

  
Harry bit back a response about how much fun that sounded like and instead thanked her for her understanding.  He led his cousin and Isabela into the castle and off in search of Varric before the dwarf could get himself into trouble as well.


	5. Chapter Four:  Fourth Year, Part Three

Collecting Varric was a relatively simple matter, and handled with great speed.  From there, Harry did wind up taking them to the Chamber of Secrets, if only because it was one of the few places where he could be sure that they wouldn’t be disturbed.  He made sure to collect his Firebolt beforehand so that he could fly everyone up after they were done with their meeting.  He didn’t fly anyone down, though, because watching them all come down the tunnel was more than a little amusing for Harry.

 

“You’re an ass,” Isabela decreed as she hopped to her feet and dusted herself off.

 

“I learned from some of the best,” Harry said cheerfully.  He moved further into the chamber, then, until they were in the room where he’d killed the basilisk.  It was still there, he was surprised to see, as fresh as the day he’d killed it.  And it looked even bigger than he remembered, if that was at all possible.  He’d been pretty sure that it wasn’t possible.  The thing had been massive in his memory, but he’d thought that he’d been making it worse in his head.  

 

Apparently that wasn’t the case.

 

“Maker, Harry, tell me that isn’t-”  Hawke stopped, looking a bit queasy.

 

Harry flushed.  “If it helps, I think it’s bigger than I remembered it being.  Also I didn’t realize it was still here or I probably wouldn’t have brought everyone down here.”

 

Fenris took off his cloak.  Harry’s cloak.  The cloak.  Whatever.  “I can see why you sent me here to guard him with that in his past.”  He nodded at the behemoth of a basilisk.

 

“To be fair, when it was described to me I didn’t realize the thing was that big.  Maker, Harry, you really took this thing down at twelve?”  Hawke walked forward and prodded it with the toe of his boot.  He’d dried off, and now his hair was sticking up in a million and one directions.  That was fine.  It went with the million and two socks he owed Dobby.

 

“I really did.  It was terrifying.”  Harry shivered at the memory of the snake’s fang sinking into his arm.  “I was pretty sure I was dead when Fawkes showed up, especially since it bit me.”  He looked away from the basilisk corpse and turned his eyes on Fenris instead.  He was better to look at then the corpse of the basilisk, anyway.  “But you guys didn’t come down here to talk about that thing, did you?”

 

“Not really,” Hawke said.  “Mostly we wanted to see how you were doing in person.  I never would have agreed to be taken as your hostage without your Headmaster agreeing to let me talk to you privately after the fact.  I’m worried about this Professor you’ve mentioned.”

 

“Oh, Moody.”  Harry grinned.  He hadn’t told them that he’d all but confirmed that Moody was his enemy.  “I know that he isn’t what he appears to be, now.  I lifted his flask off of him during the Yule Ball and my friend Hermione tested its contents.  He’s drinking a potion that lets him look like someone he isn’t.”

 

“They have those?” Varric asked.  “That could be a useful trick.”

 

Harry made a face.  “It’s a pain to brew.  Hermione managed it in our second year, but I think she’s the only student here who could do that even now.  The ingredients are a pain to get, too.”  And then he grinned.  “But it’s really useful for spying on people, I can’t lie about that.  I used it in my second year.  It was useless because the person I thought was behind the attacks wasn’t responsible, but I did try it.”

 

“Hmm.  Say, Lightning, think you could find me the recipe for this potion?  I might see if I can get some of our brewing friends to see if they can manage it.”  Varric stroked his beard thoughtfully.

 

Harry thought he looked ridiculous when he did that, but those were fighting words so he kept his mouth shut.  He was tired of fighting for the day.  Instead he said, “I could see if I can get my hands on it.  Hermione might remember how to brew it.”

 

“Right.  Well, regardless of this potion, you know for sure that this professor isn’t who he appears to be.  Is there a reason you haven’t done something to get him out of Hogwarts?” Hawke asked, brisk and businesslike.

 

Harry shrugged.  “It’s better to know where he is than to wonder what’s being planned next,” he answered.  “At least I know now what direction to look in for threats.  If I take him out of the picture, I’ll be stuck wondering until the next strike comes.”

 

Hawke’s eyes narrowed.  “Fenris?” he asked.

 

Fenris shrugged.  “He hasn’t made a direct move against Harry yet other than entering him into the tournament, and you’ve seen how dangerous that is.  Harry’s done wonderfully in all aspects of it, including the ball he went to.  If we leave him where he is we can keep an eye on him.”

 

“And are you confident that you could handle him if he did become a threat?” Hawke asked, a small smile on his face.

 

“Absolutely.  He has no idea that I’m here, after all.  I’d be able to take him easily.”  Fenris’ answering smile was slightly bloodthirsty.

 

“Well.  Okay then, if you’re sure.”  Hawke nodded once.  “Now that business is taken care of, tell your cousin more about this ball.  Did you have to ask a  _ girl _ to dance?”

 

Harry’s nose wrinkled.  He couldn’t help it.  “Do I have to answer that question?” he asked plaintively.  “I mean, I did ask a girl, and she agreed and it was sort of awesome, but does it really matter?”

 

“Well, I’d like to know if I’m going to be getting some little cousins running around anytime soon,” Hawke said.  “The house could use some kids running around, actually.”

 

“So adopt some orphans!  I’m fourteen!  As much fun as it was taking Fleur to the dance and irritating Ron, I don’t think I’m interested in anything serious with her.  She’s kind of mean, actually.”  Not that he minded that since he could give as good as he got, but he really wasn’t interested in anything romantic with Fleur.  She was beautiful, yes, but sort of like an ice princess.

 

“Wait, wait, wait, isn’t Ron your friend?” Isabela asked, even as she draped herself over Hawke.  “Why are you irritating him?”

 

Harry groaned.  “We haven’t made up since he accused me of putting my name in the Goblet.  We fought then, and things have only gotten worse since then.”

 

“The only person I’ve had to protect Harry from here at Hogwarts was him.  He drew his wand on Harry and I took it from him,” Fenris said quietly.  “He hasn’t attacked Harry since, nor has he made any moves to do so.”

 

“I keep thinking that I want to forgive him, but then I get so angry at the way he treated me when my name came out of the Goblet,” Harry said with a tiny little sigh.  One the one hand, he sort of missed Ron, but on the other hand, he really was angry with him.  And Ron hadn’t exactly been trying to be nice since then.  Not that he’d helped with that with the whole Fleur thing.

 

“Listen, Lightning, maybe you should be the bigger man here,” Varric said.  “I’m not saying forget what he’s done, because you should never forget a betrayal no matter how small, but maybe think about trying to be friends with him again.”

 

“As much as I hate to say it, Varric’s right.  We just…  Merrill’s clan is gone,” Hawke said softly, and Harry’s eyes widened.  “They… there was an incident with her Keeper, and Marethari died.  Merrill’s clan blamed her, and I couldn’t talk them out of it.  We had to kill them all to get out alive.  It was a disaster.”

 

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Harry breathed.  “Is she… is she okay?”

 

Hawke nodded, then shrugged.  “She’s… not terrible.  She’s dealing.  But she has a lot of regrets about not trying to make up with her clan while they were there to make up with.  She feels like maybe if she’d tried harder then they might not have all died.”

 

Harry cleared his throat.  “So you’re saying that I should try to make up with Ron.”

 

“I think we’re all saying that it might not be a bad idea.  If something were to happen to him, would you want to have not tried?” Hawke asked.  “Because your school is dangerous, Harry, and bad things happen every year.”

 

“You’re right,” Harry muttered.  Of course Hawke was right.  His cousin, for all his flippancy, knew a lot about people and friendship.  “I’ll talk to him today, if he’s still willing to talk after the thing with Fleur.”

 

“Good for you.”  Hawke slapped him on the shoulder, and this time Harry didn’t even stagger.  “Now, about this basilisk.  Do you suppose it could be worth some gold if we were to take its skin?  Maybe some of its poison?”

 

Harry grinned.  “Probably.  Its skin is supposed to be pretty spell-resistant.  It would probably make some pretty awesome armor, actually.”

 

Hawke eyed him.  “You think so?”  He turned back to the basilisk corpse.  “We could probably get a couple of sets out of this, actually,” he mused.  “Well, alright then!  Let’s take some of this home with us!  Harry, you can send us the rest.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, but moved to help them strip the corpse.  “Only if I don’t have to do this part of it by myself,” he said.  “I don’t want to be alone down here.”

 

“You’ll have me,” Fenris pointed out.  “I would help you.”

 

Harry, for a reason he couldn’t figure out, blushed.  “Right,” he said, and tried to focus on getting the skin off of the corpse instead of paying attention to the heat in his cheeks.  It only partially worked, but he was really grateful that Hawke hadn’t caught sight of his blush.  Or Isabela, for that matter.  Or Varric.  Or Fenris himself.

 

Really, he supposed he should be grateful that they were too busy focusing on the basilisk to pay him much mind at all.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Ron was easy enough for Harry to find after his cousin and friends left.  He was sitting on a couch in a corner of the common room, a scowl firmly fixed on his face.  The common room itself was mostly empty, not surprising considering that it was relatively late in the evening and they had classes the next day.  Harry also didn’t miss that the handful of people who had been in the common room cleared out almost as soon as he began moving in Ron’s direction.

 

“What do you want?” Ron growled as soon as Harry’s shadow fell over him.  The frown on his face grew even more severe.

 

“Can I sit?” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and hoped that he didn’t look as awkward as he felt.  His hope was probably most likely in vain.  He had to look awkward as anything looming over Ron the way he was.

 

“Can I stop you?” Ron asked in response.  He didn’t even look up at Harry as he asked the question.  There was a sort of defeat in his tone that made Harry a little uncomfortable.

 

In fact, it made Harry feel a flash of guilt.  Ron… wasn’t like the people he’d dealt with in Kirkwall.  He wasn’t an adult who thought through his actions.  He certainly wasn’t any kind of real threat to Harry.  He was just a jealous child, really, and Harry had been incredibly hostile with him.  In retrospect, Harry was pretty sure that his level of hostility had been more than a little disproportionate.

 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly and chose not to sit down.  He hadn’t been invited to sit, and Ron’s defeated response definitely couldn’t be taken as permission.  “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

 

Now Ron looked up, confusion written all over his face.  “For what?” he asked, tone guarded.

 

Harry shrugged.  “For escalating the fight between us.  For deliberately hurting you by asking Fleur to the ball just because I knew you wanted to.  And…”  Harry took another deep breath.  This last, he was certain, was the worst of his offenses.  “And I’m incredibly sorry for drawing a dagger on you.  My response was entirely out of line, and I wouldn’t blame you if you aren’t willing to forgive me.”

 

Ron let out a tiny little sigh, his shoulders slumping.  “I didn’t mean to get so angry with you when your name came out of the Goblet, you know.  It just… it happened, and once I started yelling I couldn’t stop.  And I know that isn’t any kind of excuse for the things that I said, because I said a lot of really bloody awful things to you.  I know that you aren’t after fame, and I know that you’re a good person, I really do!  I just… thought about the fact that I would have entered if I could have and I sort of lost it.”  His face was flushed with embarrassment by the time he’d finished speaking.

 

Harry hesitated, then said, “And I think maybe that’s why I didn’t forgive you right away.  Because I knew that you knew better, and I was so hurt by what you said because you knew it wasn’t true.  It was… really painful for me to hear you say those things about me.”

 

Ron winced.  “I know.  And I’m really, really sorry that I said them, and I accept that you didn’t mean to make things worse between us.”

 

“So… since we’ve both done some pretty rotten stuff during this fight, and we’re both sorry for what we’ve done, friends?” Harry stuck his hand out in the hopes that Ron would take it.

 

Ron grinned up at him and grabbed his hand.  “Friends,” he agreed.

 

It didn’t feel quite the same as it had when Harry had been younger, but it was close enough and the two grinned stupidly at each other for a few minutes.  Their friendship might never be what it had been, but it was better than the hatred they’d been practicing for most of the year.

 

And then Ron let out a loud yawn.  “Sorry,” he apologized.  “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.  I don’t think that being angry agrees with me.”

 

“You should probably get some sleep, then,” Harry said, and dragged Ron up to his feet.  “I’d like to get some more studying done before I head to bed, but you should go up.”

 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Ron said around a second yawn.  “G’night.”  He stumbled off towards the stairs up to the dorms.

 

Once Ron was gone, Harry flopped back onto the couch Ron had abandoned with a sigh.  “I don’t know how I feel about forgiving him,” he said when he felt the couch dip next to him.

 

“Perhaps this was the lesson he needed to grow up,” Fenris suggested.  “Perhaps he’s learned enough not to betray you again.”

 

Harry laughed, a little bitterly.  “You don’t know Ron that well.  He’s pretty thick sometimes, and he’s awfully jealous of me.  He always has been.  If the right circumstances were to take place again…”  Harry let out a tiny sigh.

 

“Then keep him at arm’s length,” Fenris murmured.  “Do not let him close enough to wound you a second time.”

 

“Not a bad thought,” Harry said.  “I just… I guess I thought forgiving him would feel better than it does.  Instead of relief, I’m really just waiting for him to get angry with me again.”

 

“He betrayed you,” Fenris said, with the wisdom of one who has been betrayed many times before.  “That leaves marks, whether those marks are physical or emotional.  Your friendship with him will likely never be the same because of that betrayal, no matter how much work you put into it.”

 

Harry shot a glare at where he knew Fenris was sitting.  “You’re just a bundle of good news, aren’t you?”

 

“Would you rather I lie to you?  I could tell you that everything will be just fine, and that the two of you will now never quarrel again.”  There was a dark amusement in Fenris’ voice as he made the offer.

 

Harry shook his head.  “Never,” he said, and let his eyes fall closed.  Despite what he’d said to Ron, he was pretty sure he was too tired to study.  It had been a long day, with the task and the fight with Isabela and the harvesting of the basilisk.  He should probably get some sleep before classes tomorrow, actually…

 

“If you fall asleep down here, I will leave you to be discovered in the morning by your peers,” Fenris threatened.

 

Harry, despite his great exhaustion, forced himself to open his eyes.  “You’re cruel,” he muttered, even as he forced himself to his feet.  It was a slow and painful process, given how tired he suddenly was.

 

“More practical,” Fenris said.  “If I were to carry you up to your room, luck would dictate that one of your friends would be awake and see me doing it.  They would likely be terrified, and my presence at the school would become known.  And then your Headmaster could remove me, I’m sure.”

 

Harry laughed, both at the image of him appearing to float to bed and at the image of anybody trying to force Fenris to do something he didn’t want to.  The elf was the most frightening warrior he’d ever met.  But…  “Like you’d ever be able to pick me up, anyway,” Harry said through his laughter.  Not that he thought that Fenris couldn’t, but he knew that he wouldn’t.  Fenris wasn’t that kind of person.

 

He had only a second to realize that Fenris was touching him before he was being scooped up into his arms.  He let out an embarrassingly shrill shriek and clutched at where Fenris’ shoulders probably were.  “Hey!” he gasped, still laughing.

 

“Who can’t pick you up, brat?” the elf asked, amusement clear in his voice.

 

“I don’t know!  Of course you can now please put me down,” Harry begged through his giggles.

 

“I suppose,” Fenris said, and it was only Harry’s quick reflexes that saved him from being dropped on his butt.

 

“You suck,” he told the elf with a grin, his laughter finally subsiding.

 

“You should be more careful with your words.  Imagine Isabela’s response to an opening line like that one,” Fenris pointed out.

 

Harry realized what Fenris was talking about and blushed even as he laughed again.  He was still laughing quietly as he made his way up to his dorm and went to bed with a smile on his face, his reservations about Ron all but forgotten.  He was incredibly glad that Fenris was with him.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

That night, Harry had a strange dream.  

 

_ It was the Yule Ball once more, but instead of attending with Fleur he was by himself, and the Great Hall was filled with couples who were dancing and laughing and having wonderful times.  Harry had never felt so lonely in all his life, standing there in the decorated great hall with no one to talk to and everyone else having so much fun.  He wanted to leave, but no matter which way he turned he couldn’t find an exit.  He opened his mouth to speak, to ask for help, but no words came out.  He was trapped and alone and very, very lonely. _

 

_ “Something wrong?” came a familiar voice behind him, and Harry turned to see Fenris standing there, wearing dress robes.  He looked ridiculous, and Harry was pretty sure that Fenris would never agree to wear robes of any sort. _

 

_ “Not… really?” he asked.  “Why aren’t you under the cloak?” _

 

_ “It’s the Yule Ball, and I’m here as your date.  Did you forget?” Fenris asked, a slightly crooked smile appearing on his face.   _

 

_ “Yes?” Harry hazaded.  “I didn’t think I could bring you as a date.  I thought it had to be a student here.”  Not that he minded, he realized.  In fact, the thought of dancing with Fenris for everyone to see was sort of a nice thought.  He didn’t mind that at all, actually. _

 

_ Fenris held out a hand.  “Then dance with me?” he asked. _

 

_ Harry’s heart skipped a beat and he took an automatic step forward and let himself be drawn into Fenris’ arms.  It felt nice, very nice, and Harry’s eyes slipped closed as he stepped further into the embrace. _

 

And then he woke up and stared at the ceiling for a while.  It was an odd dream and he had no idea what it could have meant.  Was it possible… did he  _ like _ Fenris?  That… could be embarrassing, actually, especially since he was pretty sure that Fenris had no interest in a child like himself.

 

He rolled over and tried to put the dream out of his mind.  He succeeded only when he drifted back off to an uneasy sleep what felt like hours later.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Time flew, in the way that it so often did when Harry didn’t particularly want it to.  He learned what the third task was going to be and felt like he’d scarcely started preparing himself for it when the night of the task was upon him.  He found himself standing with the other contestants, a frown on his face.

 

While he thought he’d been prepared for the task, apparently he wasn’t.  Standing out there waiting to go, suddenly he didn’t want to go in at all.  Perhaps it was the smirk on Moody’s face that made him so wary of entering the maze, or perhaps it was just that the end of the year was near and he still hadn’t had his annual confrontation with real trouble.

 

Either way, Harry found that he really and truly did not want to enter the maze.

 

Unfortunately, Harry had no choice.  He not only had to enter the maze, but he had to enter it first.  The problem with a perfect score, he supposed.  If he’d been smarter he would have come in second so that somebody else had to go first, but he hadn’t thought of it until right that moment, standing in front of the maze.  Oh well.  There wasn’t anything to do about it now.

 

He entered the maze.

 

He supposed it would have been different if he hadn’t spent the summer adventuring with Hawke.  As it was, the maze seemed almost juvenile.  The dementor was a surprise, but a much less impressive one when it turned out to be a Boggart in disguise.  The Blast-Ended Skrewt was… not a challenge to dispose of, despite the fact that it had clearly gotten to one of the other champions by the time he found it.  He heard Cedric… maybe Cedric, screaming at one point, but continued on without seeking out the sound.  For all he knew the screaming was a diversion meant to take him off his chosen path.  The riddle from the sphinx stalled him a bit, but it didn’t take him too long to get past that, either.

 

Then he came to the Acromantula.

 

“Seriously?” he asked, staring at the massive thing.  He wasn’t entirely sure that he could kill that thing with just his daggers, especially since he was pretty certain that he wasn’t supposed to have them.

 

Then Cedric came along, in the form of rustling just behind Harry.  Harry ducked around a convenient corner, still not drawing the Acromantula’s attention, and waited.  Cedric, looking very much worse for wear, stared at the Acromantula just as Harry had.  He muttered something under his breath, brought his wand up, and moved in to attack the thing.

 

Harry supposed that the honorable thing to do would be to help Cedric with the giant spider, but he had his limits.  Spiders were definitely a part of those limits, especially giant ones.  Hawke had told him about one he’d fought in the Deep Roads, and Harry didn’t even want to think about that.  Not really.  So he snuck around the spider while Cedric kept it distracted.  And Cedric didn’t even notice.

 

Perhaps he should feel guilty about using the other Champion as a distraction to the Acromantula, but he really didn’t.  He was supposed to use every tool at his disposal, after all, and it wasn’t like he owed any debts to the Hufflepuff.  They’d exchanged information during the earlier tasks; that didn’t make them allies.

 

Now unobstructed, Harry moved further into the maze.  A few turns later, and there it was.  The Triwizard Cup, sitting there, all nice and shiny and just waiting to be picked up.  Harry didn’t even hesitate.  He picked up the cup and was rewarded immediately with a hooking sensation just behind his navel and the world blurring around him.

 

The Cup dropped him in what could only be a graveyard.  It was sort of obvious, what with all the headstones and everything.  It was also painfully clear that this was no longer a part of the tournament, especially when a stunner came whizzing towards him.

 

Harry ducked it and crouched behind a headstone, gripping his daggers.  “Seriously?  We can’t talk first?” he called, not looking up.

 

“Come on out, Potter, make it easier on us,” a familiar voice answered.

 

Harry groaned.  This.  This was why he’d learned to be ruthless so easily for Hawke.  Because showing mercy only lead to trouble.  He should have used Varric’s information while he had a chance, because now it wasn’t going to matter.  

 

“Seriously, Pettigrew?  I saved your life and this is what you give me?” he shouted back.

 

“It’s nothing personal, Potter!” the rat called back.  “And honestly, if you could just surrender this whole ritual would be easier on all of us.  Yourself included.  My Lord might even be inclined to be lenient.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Yes, because the man who’s been trying to kill me since I was a baby really is going to be lenient.  I’ll buy that.”  How stupid did they think he was, anyway?

 

He stepped out from the behind the headstone and frowned.  Pettigrew wasn’t in front of him.  Where had the little rat gone, anyway?  He turned to check behind him, only to let out an irritated noise as he was struck from behind by something.  Everything went black.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

He came back to himself chained to a different headstone, because he really was rather stupid.  How could he have let himself get cursed from behind?  Hawke was going to make himself sick laughing at Harry.  If Harry got out of this, anyway.  That… was actually a really good reason to get out of this, actually, because Hawke and Sirius would both be pretty devastated if he didn’t.  And Fenris would be too.

 

Actually, there were a lot of reasons to get out of this mess alive.  Including the fact that Isabela would never let him live this down, either.  How many times had she told him to watch his back?

 

He began testing his bonds, slowly and carefully, trying to avoid notice.  He was pretty thoroughly stuck, actually, which sucked.  But, a flex of his arms revealed that his hidden daggers were still hidden right where he wanted them to be, which was at least a small plus to the whole mess.

 

“Our guest is awake,” a thin, cold voice said.

 

Harry rolled his eyes in the direction of the cauldron in front of him.  That deformed  _ thing _ was what had everyone so afraid?  “Let me out of these chains and I’ll stomp on you,” Harry said cheerfully.  “You look pathetically easy to crush like that.  It’d be fun!  For me, anyway.”

 

“Our guest thinks he’s funny,” the thing said.

 

“Your guest knows he’s funny,” Harry retorted.  “Also, your guest thinks that stunning him from behind was really mean.”  From the way he was ignored, Harry had the idea that neither Pettigrew nor the thing in the cauldron really cared what he thought.

 

That was fine.  Harry didn’t really care what they thought, either.  “I mean, I’ve done a lot of things but I’ve never stabbed someone in the back.  Well, I have, but they had it coming.  I didn’t have it coming.  How ungentlemanly of you to hit a stranger from behind with a curse!  What your mother-”

 

The pain curse was sort of expected at that point.  Even knowing it was coming, Harry still screamed.  There was nothing wrong with screaming when being tortured, anyway, no matter what anyone said.  When Harry retold this story he would probably leave out the whole screaming in agony bit, though.

 

The ritual that followed was nothing short of horrific.  He tried not to watch it, but it was sort of like watching a train wreck.  He couldn’t look away.  At least now he could empathize a bit with Fenris when he spoke of the rituals Tevinter Magisters were so famous for conducting.  This one was pretty awful, and he hoped they weren’t all like that.

 

Then, because Voldemort was a bit of a show-off, he summoned his Death Eaters to him and released Harry from his bindings so they could duel.  Seriously?  How stupid was he?  Harry rolled his eyes so hard he was afraid they might actually fall out of his head.

 

“You really want to fight me?” Harry asked, his wand held loosely in his hand.

 

“Of course,” the abomination formerly known as Voldemort answered.  “Were you not just complaining about how cruel it was to be defeated in an unfair fight?  I would never have my enemies call me cruel.”

 

“Are you absolutely sure that you want to fight me?” Harry asked, shifting onto the balls of his feet.  And he’d been kind enough to summon his followers!  Oh, this was going to be so much fun.

 

“Why, Mr. Potter, are you afraid?”  Voldemort laughed at him.  “Yes, Potter.  We’re going to duel.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “Okay,” he said.  He holstered his wand and flicked his wrists, his daggers dropping into his hands without so much as a whisper of sound.  “Let’s do this, then.”

 

He lunged into motion.  It was clear that Voldemort wasn’t expecting that because he fumbled his wand and it took him precious seconds to recover.  That was cool.  Harry didn’t mind.  He wasn’t going for him right then anyway.

 

Pettigrew went down before he even realized what was happening with a spray of blood from his throat.  He wouldn’t be getting back up again.  Harry dove into Voldemort’s followers, slicing and dicing as he went.  He was fast and brutal and they hadn’t been expecting that at all because most of them didn’t even have their wands out.  Idiots.

 

The thugs in Kirkwall were better than this.

 

And then they started reacting, Voldemort included, and things just got better.  A curse at his back was dodged and it hit the Death Eater in front of him, knocking him to the ground, dead.

 

“Who fires a Killing Curse into their own people, anyway?” Harry asked, shaking his head.  He kept moving, though, because he was really determined not to die tonight.  “Someone who has no respect for his followers, that’s who.  Seriously?”  He dodged the clumsy attempt at knocking him out again by jumping behind another headstone.  “This is the man you idiots chose to follow?  And look at where that got you.”

 

Most of those idiots were either dead or dying, now, and those that weren’t had popped away in terror.  Now it was just Harry and Voldemort standing in the graveyard.  “You fight like a Muggle,” Voldemort snarled.  He was bleeding a bit, and somewhere in the frenzy Harry must have cut him up a bit, too.

 

Harry was devastated by that.  Really.  Just heartbroken at the accusation.  “I fight however I have to,” Harry answered.  “You know, since my other option is to just die.  I’m not really ready for the whole death thing.”

 

“That’s a shame,” Voldemort said.  He lifted his wand, and flicked it.

 

Harry darted forward, and Voldemort looked surprised, like he’d expected Harry to just stand there and take whatever curse he’d been preparing to cast.  How stupid did he think Harry was, anyway?  His knife buried itself to the hilt in Voldemort’s stomach, his other knife coming up to slice into Voldemort’s wand hand.  Voldemort staggered back, his wand dropping from his fingers which now probably couldn’t close given the way Harry had sliced.

 

Harry caught the wand as it fell and danced back, grinning at Voldemort.  “Sorry, you were saying?” he asked politely.  He snapped the wand before Voldemort could say anything else.

 

Voldemort let out a shocked, broken noise, then disappeared with a pop.

 

Harry sighed and felt the tension drain from him.  There were soft noises from the Death Eaters still living, but those were easily dealt with.  Slit throats all around.  He considered looting them, because honestly he deserved some compensation after the night he’d had, but then decided against it.  It wouldn’t look very good in the Daily Prophet if he were a thief, after all.

 

The Cup was sitting where he’d dropped it, and he really hoped that whatever it was went both ways because otherwise he’d be stuck finding his way back on his own.  He collected his main daggers from where they’d been thrown after his capture, then grabbed hold of it and was relieved when he felt that hook behind his navel once again.

 

He wasn’t necessarily looking forward to the conversation that was going to happen, of course, because he was covered in blood and that was bound to be awkward, but at least he’d be out of the damned graveyard.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry reappeared at Hogwarts, in the middle of some kind of winner’s circle.  The crowd who’d assembled to watch the tournament let out a cheer that cut off abruptly when they saw the gore that covered his hands and the daggers in those hands.

 

“Harry, my dear boy,” the Headmaster started, and Harry cut him off with a jerk of his head.

 

“So I got kidnapped,” he said loudly, making sure that his words carried.  “You know, like you probably wanted to happen since you left me in this tournament knowing full well that I didn’t put my name in.”

 

Dumbledore’s head jerked and his eyes widened in something like hurt.  “Harry, that’s an awful thing to accuse me of,” he said, laying one hand over his heart.  “I had no choice but to make you compete, given that your name came out of the goblet.  I would never have wanted you to be injured.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “Is that why you’ve had a Death Eater teaching at the school all year?  Because you’re so concerned about our safety?”  He glanced over at Moody, who was hovering with the rest of the teachers, undoubtedly waiting for Harry’s corpse to appear.

 

“What a preposterous accusation,” Dumbledore sputtered.  “Harry, my boy, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Moody, of course,” Harry said.  “You’re such good friends with him, I figured you had to know that he wasn’t who he was claiming to be.  I’m almost certain he’s the one who put my name in the goblet, by the way, so that his precious Voldemort could kidnap me tonight.”

 

“Alastor is one of my dearest friends, and I’ll thank you not to slander his good name,” Dumbledore said.  Even so, his hand was inching towards his wand.

 

Harry shrugged.  “He is taking Polyjuice, though,” he said.  “It’s what he drinks in his flask.  I lifted it off of him during the Yule Ball and did some experimenting.”

 

“You insolent little brat,” Moody, whoever he really was, snarled.  “Whatever it is that you’re saying about me is probably just to take suspicion off of the way you really got your name in the goblet.  Because technically, you’re right.  You didn’t put your own name in.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “I’m so glad that you’re admitting it,” he said slowly.  Where was Moody going with this, anyway?

 

“You got your elven friend to do it for you.”

 

Harry blinked.  Of all the possible explanations Moody could have come out with, that’s what he chose?  “My elven friend?” Harry echoed.  “You mean Fenris?”  He shrugged.  “I guess technically he could have, but honestly, he’s here to protect me.  What part of entering me into a tournament with people older than me strikes you as protective?”

 

“What elf, Harry?”  The question came from Dumbledore, whom Harry had all but forgotten about.

 

“My cousin sent me back with a bodyguard, since no one here seems interested in securing my safety.”  Harry shrugged.  “And, once again, he was right.  I swore to him that this year would be different, that I wouldn’t need Fenris, and we’ve got a teacher teaching us the Unforgiveables in class.  Because that’s something an ex-Auror would do.”

 

Dumbledore’s eyes sparked.  “Alastor?” he asked, his voice going dark and low.  “Unforgiveables?”

 

Alastor’s face started to change, to morph in a way that wasn’t just related to his anger at Harry, though that was pretty clear on his face.  “You insolent little brat.  How in the hell did you survive your visit with the Dark Lord tonight?”

 

Harry laughed in his face.  “Oh, please.  Tom?  He was super easy to deal with.  He didn’t expect my daggers at all.”  Then Harry laughed again.  “I don’t think he was expecting me to be so brutal, either.  I gotta say, if he survives the wounds I gave him he’s gonna have a hell of a time finding followers.  Most of the ones he called tonight died.”

 

Not-Moody’s wand lifted as though he wasn’t even thinking about it.  “ _ Crucio! _ ” he snarled, and the curse flew at Harry.  Harry would have dodged, but there were people behind him and he didn’t want them to get hit.

 

Instead, he let the curse hit him, and fell to the ground, writhing in agony.  The pain cut off abruptly, leaving Harry panting on the ground, his whole body tingling with the aftershocks of the curse.  The adrenaline of the night, the ritual, two rounds of that awful curse, it all started to catch up to him, and Harry felt the world browning out around him.

 

He heard Fenris snarl, “Don’t you touch him, you idiot!”

 

Then the world went dark.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry woke up in the familiar space of the hospital wing, Fenris slouched in the chair at his side.  Fenris sat up immediately once he saw that Harry’s eyes were open.

 

“The Healer says that you’ll be fine,” Fenris said.  “That the trials of the night got to you and that’s why you passed out.”  His voice had the faintest tremble to it, though, that made Harry think that perhaps Fenris didn’t believe what Madam Pomfrey had said to him.

 

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on himself.  “I feel pretty good, actually,” he said once he’d taken stock of his physical state.  “Well-rested, ready for just about anything.  I could probably take on a couple of thugs from Kirkwall, or a blood mage or two, maybe a small dragon.”

 

Fenris laughed.  “How about some Aurors?  They’ve been waiting to question you.  Your Healer refused to wake you just so they could talk to you.  Apparently you left a terrible mess behind, wherever you were transported to.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose.  “I’d really rather not talk about it,” he muttered.  But he sat up, with Fenris’ help, then let Madam Pomfrey fuss over him for a few minutes, then waited for the Aurors to come.

 

There were two of them, a tall, older man with dark skin, and a much younger woman who winked at him when she walked into the room.

 

“Wotcher, Harry,” she said, her eyes twinkling.  As Harry watched, they changed color, going from blue to purple.  “I’m Tonks, this is Kingsley.  We hear you had some trouble at the end of the tournament.”

 

“Yeah, I got kidnapped.  The cup took me away with some weird hooking sensation, and the next thing I knew I was standing in a graveyard.”

 

“That sounds unfortunate,” Tonks said.  “Can you tell us about the ritual used?  Because the whole place stank of ritual magic, and not the nice kind.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “I tried not to pay attention, honestly.  It was pretty awful.”  He hesitated, glancing at Fenris.  Surely Fenris wouldn’t be angry at him because someone had used a ritual on him.  It wasn’t like he’d participated of his own free will, after all.  “It used Pettigrew’s hand, and some of my blood, and the bone of his father.”

 

Tonks’ eyebrows went up.  “Voldemort’s father was buried in that cemetery?” she asked, sounding a bit dubious.

 

Harry shrugged.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I just know that Pettigrew used some of his bones in the ritual.  I don’t know if they were at the cemetery already or if he brought them, but I can’t imagine they would have chosen that location just for fun.  It was a muggle graveyard.”  Harry considered what he’d just said, then shrugged.  “At least, I thought it was.  I guess it could have been a wizarding one.”

 

“Let’s talk about the… bodies.”  Kingsley winced as he said it.  “There were… several there, and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure that we’re going to be able to figure out who each part belongs to.”

 

Harry grinned at that.  “Nice to know I did my work well.”

 

Kingsley’s face went a peculiar shade of grey.  “You mean to say that you did all of that?”  His voice came out choked, like he was forcing the words past something.  Tonks, too, was staring at Harry like he was some kind of a monster.

 

Harry didn’t let it bother him.  He just shrugged.  “I don’t know if you realized this, but they were holding me prisoner.  I killed every single one of them that I could.”  He shook his head, a rueful smile appearing on his face.  “If there’s one thing I learned from this whole mess, it’s that mercy has no place on a battlefield.  Look what mercy did for me!  It got Voldemort resurrected.  If I hadn’t let Pettigrew live last year, this never would have happened.”

 

Tonks opened her mouth, then closed it with a small snap.  Finally, into the growing silence, she said, “I don’t know that never showing mercy is a lesson you should be taking away from all of this.”  She sounded like she wasn’t even sure of what she was saying, though.

 

Harry stared at her.  “The only good enemy is a dead one,” he said flatly.  Beside him, Fenris let out a soft snort.  Harry glanced at him and grinned.  “Fenris agrees.”

 

“So… what you’re saying is that all of those kills were done in self defense?” Kingsley asked.

 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Harry said with a nod.  “If I hadn’t killed them, I’m sure they would have done their best to kill me.”  Well.  He wasn’t completely sure, but he was relatively sure.  They were Death Eaters, after all, and they’d come when they were called.  Nice people didn’t let a creepy evil dark lord brand them.

 

Tonks glanced at Kingsley, then back at Harry.  Finally, carefully, she said, “Well, at this point we don’t think there are going to be charges laid against you or anything like that.  You were pretty clearly outnumbered, even if you hurt them more than they hurt you.  But… maybe try not to be so violent next time?”

 

Harry offered her his most innocent smile.  “Of course I’ll try my hardest next time,” he said.  “Violence is never the best answer, after all.”

 

Harry wasn’t entirely certain that they believed him, but they did leave.  As soon as the door fell shut behind them, Harry lost his inner battle with his laughter and let loose, cackling a bit madly.  “Violence is never the best answer,” he gasped out through his peals of laughter.

 

“Yes, you’re hilarious,” Fenris muttered.  He was frowning at Harry, his green eyes soft with a strange emotion.  “Harry,” he started.

 

Harry brought himself under control with some effort.  “What is it?” he asked, his heart skipping in his chest.  Was Fenris angry about the ritual?  He hadn’t… it wasn’t his fault.  Was it?

 

Unfortunately, before Fenris could say whatever was on his mind, there was a tapping at the door and the Headmaster was poking his head in.  “Harry, if I might have a few minutes of your time?” he asked, slipping into the room.

 

Harry closed his eyes and sighed.  “What is it, Headmaster?”

 

“I wanted to talk to you about some of things that happened this year, particularly towards the end of it.  And…”  The Headmaster visibly hesitated, then soldiered forward, “And I’d really rather talk to you alone, if it’s all the same to you.”

 

Fenris stood and moved to block Harry’s view of the old man.  “No.”  The word was growled, and Harry saw the slightest hint of a glow in Fenris’ tattoos.

 

“I don’t really think that’s the best idea,” Harry said quickly.  “I’m still a bit on edge about the kidnapping, and I’d rather Fenris stay with me.  I feel safe around him.”  The last sentence came out small and shaky and Harry sincerely hoped that it wasn’t as pathetic as it sounded.

 

The Headmaster frowned, but came to sit at Harry’s side anyway.  “Very well,” he said.  “Harry, why didn’t you come to me with your suspicions about Alastor?”

 

Harry shrugged.  “You hired a werewolf to teach last year, and a fraud to teach the year before that.  I figured you knew and either thought it wasn’t important or you just didn’t care.”

 

“I never intended to give you the impression that I don’t care, my dear boy.”  The Headmaster reached out to touch his arm and Harry jerked back before he could.  “I’m sorry that you feel that way.”

 

Harry said nothing.  It was becoming clear to him that the Headmaster had little interest in making sure the school was actually safe.  Why bring that damned stone to Hogwarts?  Why hadn’t he figured out it was a basilisk hurting the students?  Why hire a werewolf, no matter how faithfully he took a potion to make sure he didn’t accidentally kill a student?

 

The Headmaster sighed.  “I’m concerned about some of the habits you seem to have picked up Outrealm,” he said, changing the subject.  “The carnage you left in your wake at the site of the ritual was… extensive.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “Well, Headmaster, it was a kill or be killed situation.  What was I supposed to do, tickle them to death?”

 

The Headmaster sighed.  “I can see that you’re not in the mood to have this conversation.”  He stood, looking like he was bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.  “Harry, if you change your mind, my door is always open to you.  For anything, no matter how little you may think I care.”

 

“Thank you,” Harry said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say.  He didn’t ever intend on taking the Headmaster up on his offer, no matter how kind it appeared to be.  Somehow, he was pretty sure that their worldviews were just too different now, and Harry was okay with that.

 

After he left, Fenris settled at his side once more.  “Harry,” Fenris started again, his voice oddly gentle.

 

“What is it?” Harry asked.  He turned to Fenris, who was watching him with that strange look in his eyes.

 

“The ritual…”  Fenris trailed off.  He cleared his throat, then said awkwardly, “If you ever want to talk about it, I’ve seen my share of them.  Magister or Dark Lord, it seems they’re mostly the same.”

 

Harry sagged back into the bed.  The relief he felt at Fenris’ words was so strong it almost made him cry.  “Thanks,” he said around a sudden lump in his throat.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“See that you do,” Fenris said.  His lips quirked into a small smile.  “So, how much of this are you going to tell Hawke?” he asked, switching the subject to something more neutral.

 

Harry groaned.  “As little as I can get away with,” he said honestly.  “I don’t need him or Sirius worrying about me.  This was… a little bit worse than my normal adventures, sure, but I actually came out of it in pretty good shape this time.  I’d rather not worry them.”

 

Fenris looked to be considering his words carefully, then he said, “And what will you give me to stay silent about this latest insanity?”

 

Harry didn’t even really think about it.  He thwacked Fenris with a pillow, and laughed at the dumbfounded look on the elf’s face.  “More of that if you don’t!” he said, and hit Fenris again.

 

He wasn’t expecting for Fenris to pick up another pillow and hit him with it in retaliation, but in retrospect he probably should have seen it coming.  By the time Madam Pomfrey came to check on him, they’d both whacked each other with their respective pillows until the stuffing had come out and were trying to look innocent.

 

Madam Pomfrey didn’t buy it for a minute, judging by her expression, but she was kind enough to ignore the ruined pillows as she decreed that Harry was “Mostly fine, but I’d like you to stay the night just in case.  Would your guard like a bed tonight, or is he going to spend the entire night in the chair again?”

 

“The chair,” Fenris said shortly, glowering at her as though he were offended by her very existence.

 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh again as she stalked off, obviously just as offended by Fenris as he was by her.  “You should be nicer,” he said to Fenris, even as he shifted so that he was lying down again.  He was tired still and could understand why Madam Pomfrey wanted him to stay the night.

 

Fenris raised an eyebrow at him.  “I’m nice to people who deserve it, and thus far she has done nothing to deserve my kindness.”

 

“You’re nice to me,” Harry said, his words slurring as he started to drift off to sleep.

 

“Yes, well, you deserve it,” Fenris said, the words soft and warm.  Harry felt something brush against his forehead, like Fenris’ fingers stroking back his hair, and then he was asleep.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The week between the end of the year and the third task was a strange one, mostly because Fenris now wandered the school without the help of Harry’s cloak.  There was no need for it, given that most of the school had seen him rip not-Moody’s heart right out of his chest.  Fenris’ presence had the added effect of creating a wide berth around Harry no matter where he went.  His fellow students stared, but none of them dared approach him with Fenris glowering at all of them.  It was oddly peaceful, actually.

 

It was during the last meal of the year, breakfast the morning the train was arriving, that Harry asked, “So, were you glowering at my fellow students all the time, and I just didn’t see it because you were covered by the cloak?”

 

Fenris’ lips twitched ever so slightly.  “You know me well enough to know the answer to that,” he said.

 

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was sidetracked when a shiver ran down his spine.  Beside him, Fenris tensed.  “What-” he started, only to cut off when the doors slammed open and dwarves poured into the Great Hall.  One ran towards him, screaming a battle cry of some kind, an axe on hand and raised to attack.

 

Harry reacted without thinking, leaping from his seat and darting towards the dwarf.  He could hear more screaming, more battle cries, and heard Fenris enter the fray he hadn’t even noticed behind him.  The battle was fast and frantic, made worse by the obvious and vocal fright of Harry’s fellow students as they reacted to the sudden bloodshed taking place in front of them.

 

Harry didn’t have time to worry about that.  Whatever these dwarves were, they were focusing on him, not Fenris.  It made it easy to take them out, as Fenris just took them from behind while they tried to attack Harry.  Harry’s main job in the fight was keeping moving and not allowing himself to be pinned down.

 

It wasn’t a long fight, and when it was over Harry knelt in front of one of the corpses.  “What are the chances that this isn’t related to the crazy dwarves who’ve been attacking Hawke?  You remember, the ones that he wrote me about?”

 

Fenris groaned.  “Slim to none, given that Hawke’s name is on this note,” he said, and held out a bloodstained note he’d lifted off of one of the corpses he’d been examining.  His reading lessons were coming along fairly well, well enough that he was at least able to make out Hawke’s name on the scrap of paper.

 

Harry wrinkled his nose.  “It says something about the blood of the Hawke, whatever that means.”  He shrugged.  “Maybe they want our blood to use in a nefarious ritual.  There seems to be a lot of that going around these days.”

 

“Mr. Potter!”  Professor McGonagall’s scandalized voice rang out, and it was then that Harry remembered their audience.

 

“Professor, I’m sorry about the mess,” Harry said quickly.  “It’s really not my fault, though.  There was nothing I could do; they attacked me!”

 

“I think that what Professor McGonagall is concerned with is the… casual way with which you ended at least a dozen lives just now,” the Headmaster said gently.  “There were children present, Harry.  Surely there were some non-lethal solutions that might have been offered.”

 

Harry blinked at the old man.  “They were trying to kill me,” he said slowly.  “I wasn’t about to stop and ask them what they wanted.  I think it was pretty clear that they were after my death.”

 

“Yes, but-”  The Headmaster cut off with a sigh.  “Nevermind.  I’ll have the house elves handle the mess, but Harry, maybe you could try talking next time?”

 

“Sure,” Harry said with a shrug.  He had no intention of keeping that promise, but whatever made the Headmaster feel better, he supposed.

 

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said, his eyes starting to twinkle once more.  “Now, I believe all of you have a train to catch!” he said, raising his voice to speak to all of the students.  “Be safe this summer, because we want to see all of you back here next year!”

 

Harry knelt down once more as the rest of the students started to file out of the Great Hall, their voices raised as they undoubtedly gossiped about the fight they’d just witnessed.  He started to loot the bodies, since it wasn’t like the house elves would do it for him, and Fenris helped.  Within minutes the dwarves were stripped of anything sparkly and gold, or even just maybe useful sometime in the future,, and Harry stood and stretched.

 

“Have a good summer, Headmaster, Professor,” Harry said, nodding to each of them.  They’d stared at him the entire time, like they’d never seen someone looting bodies before.

 

It was only after he’d left the castle and was on the train back to Platform 9 3/4 that it occurred to Harry that they’d probably never seen anyone do something like that in their lives.

 

The ride was spent in strained silence, with Hermione and Ron on one side of the car and Harry and Fenris on the other.  Hermione and Ron spoke in hushed whispers for the majority of the ride, each one darting glances at Harry every so often.

 

“Harry,” Hermione started, after the train had arrived at the station and they were getting their things together.

 

“What is it?” Harry asked, even as he secured his daggers, his proper ones, in their proper places.  Hawke would be waiting outside to take them directly Outrealm, and Harry couldn’t wait.  He had so much to tell Sirius!

 

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head.  She leaned forward and gave Harry a quick hug.  “Just be careful this summer, yeah?  I’m worried about you, there, with no way of contacting us.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said, not mentioning that there were several services that delivered mail Outrealm.  He didn’t particularly want to deal with a barrage of letters from his friends.  Instead, he nodded at Fenris.  “Fenris takes good care of me.”

 

“He barely needs it anymore,” Fenris said.  “We’ve found that he’s quite capable.”

 

“There, see?”  Harry offered Hermione his most winning smile, the one he’d learned from Hawke.  “I’ll be fine.  You stay safe this summer, especially with that mad bastard running around again.”

 

“I will,” Hermione promised.  “I’ll see you in the fall, then.”

 

“Stay safe, Harry,” Ron said quickly before leaving the train, not giving Harry a chance to respond.

 

Harry left the train as well and immediately found Hawke, leaning against the wall, ignoring the stares and whispers from both the parents and the children.  Hawke spotted him immediately as well and opened his arms wide.

 

“Harry, you little brat, come here and tell me all about that last task in the tournament!” he shouted.

 

Harry’s eyes brightened.  Nobody was ever as happy to see him as Hawke was in that moment, and he couldn’t resist flinging himself forward into his cousin’s arms.  “I killed a bunch of Death Eaters,” he said into his cousin’s robes.

 

Hawke’s arms spasmed around him.  “You did what now?”

 

“I’ll tell you about it on the way home,” Harry said, and pulled back ever so slightly.  “It’s a long story, but I think it’s one that you’ll enjoy.”

 

“Well, yeah, if there’s death and destruction, you know I’m all about that,” his cousin said lightly, only the slightest hint of strain in his voice giving away his true dislike of the thought.

 

“Fenris ripped out not-Moody’s heart, too,” Harry said, even as he grabbed onto Hawke’s hand and tugged.

 

“Oh, I definitely have to hear this story,” Hawke said with a more genuine laugh.

  
Harry started to explain as they started walking, a bounce in his step.  He was going home, and for the first time ever he was actually happy to leave Hogwarts.  It was a weird feeling, but one that he thought he could get used to.


	6. Chapter Five:  The Second Summer

Sirius was waiting for Harry the second he emerged in the docks of Kirkwall, a huge grin on his godfather’s face.  Being Outrealm suited him, as he wasn’t a criminal there and was free to walk among the people as he pleased.  Harry was happy that his godfather was happy, and was glad to run to his arms and accept the hug he was offered.

 

“Did you have a good year?” Sirius asked, squeezing him tightly.

 

“It was terrible,” Harry said honestly.  “I haven’t even had the chance to tell you guys the worst of it yet!”

 

“Worse than trying to outsmart a dragon?” Sirius asked, his eyebrows raising.

 

“Worse than trying to save your worthless arse from Dementors,” Harry shot back.  “Worse than the Chamber of Secrets in my second year, and worse than the incident with the Sorcerer’s Stone in my first.  It was absolutely the worst.”

 

“To be fair,” Fenris started, then paused when Harry turned to glower at him.  “To be fair,” his guard continued, undaunted by Harry’s quick move, “I’m almost certain that you made sure that Voldemort had a worse time of it than you.”

 

“You had to face him again?” Sirius asked, eyes widening in dismay.

 

“I’m not answering that,” Harry said immediately.  He shot a glare at Fenris that was probably sharper than his daggers.  “And if somebody knows what’s good for him, he’ll shut up about it.”

 

“Somebody knows who’s paying him to keep you safe,” Fenris said easily.

 

Harry felt a sharp lance of pain at those words, the implication that Fenris was only taking care of him for money hurting more than it had any right to, and covered it with a bright laugh.  “Right, so shouldn’t you want to keep the most recent incident quiet?  You weren’t exactly there…”

 

Fenris rolled his eyes.  “Through no fault of my own.”  The elf started walking, then, leaving Harry to scramble after him and Sirius to scramble after them both.  “And for the record, I always meant to tell Hawke what happened at the final task.  It’s your choice whether you’re there for the conversation or not.”   
  


Harry wrinkled his nose.  “At least if I’m there I can keep you from exaggerating too badly,” Harry muttered.  He followed Fenris through the docks, Sirius trailing behind both of them, and up through Lowtown to Hightown proper.  

 

With every step he took, something in Harry eased.  He’d thought that he’d like coming back to Kirkwall, but he really hadn’t realized how very good it would feel to come home for a summer, instead of being forced to return to the Dursleys.  For once, there was something outside of Hogwarts that he was looking forward to.  Training with Isabela, playing cards in The Hanged Man, even annoying Aveline with her far too stringent sense of duty… all of sounded more wonderful than he could have ever imagined.

 

“Get that foolish grin off your face,” Fenris muttered as they approached Hawke’s mansion.  “You look ridiculous.”

 

Harry didn’t say a word, just offered Fenris a more intense version of the serene smile he knew to be on his face.

 

Fenris, in response, groaned.  “Ugh!  You’re turning out exactly like your cousin.”  The words, while insulting, had a complimentary tone to them that made Harry beam at the elf.

 

They entered the mansion with little fanfare, and Harry found himself almost bowled over by Blade, Hawke’s Mabari, who was ecstatic to see him.  “Who’s the best dog in the world,” Harry crooned to Blade, letting himself be jumped at and burying his fingers in Blade’s fur.

 

“Blade is, of course,” Hawke said, coming into the entrance hall.  “Although, I have found that your godfather gives him a run for his money.”

 

There was a tone to his cousin’s voice that made Harry glance up sharply.  Hawke had… a leer on his face?  And Sirius, when Harry glanced at him, was flushing brightly in the soft light of the entrance hall, his cheeks practically glowing.

 

“We weren’t saying anything,” Sirius hissed at Hawke, the words coming out strangled.

 

Harry’s eyes widened.  “You two?” he squeaked, not sure if he was happy or appalled or a strange mix of both.

 

“You weren’t saying anything,” Hawke said cheerily.  “But can you imagine Isabela keeping things quiet?”

 

Sirius groaned as his cheeks, impossibly, flamed even brighter.  In an instant, Harry found himself looking at Padfoot instead of his godfather.  The dog collapsed onto the ground and covered his nose with both of his paws, his ears drooping and his tail tucked between his legs.

 

“Both of them?” Harry squeaked.  Then, as soon as he got over his embarrassment, which honestly had no place in a conversation where Isabela was involved, he said, “Congratulations, Siri.  I bet they’re lots of fun.”

 

Hawke winked at him, then picked him up and swung him around in a hug.  “The most fun anyone’s ever had,” he said agreeably as he settled Harry back onto his feet.  “So, what’s new with you?  How’d the third task go?”

 

Harry sighed.  “I got kidnapped,” he said, because he might as well be the one to tell the story.  He didn’t trust Fenris not to make it all out to be worse than it actually was.  He’d come back fine, after all, and he’d definitely made sure that Voldemort wouldn’t be so careless the next time he tried kidnapping Harry, assuming he was ever stupid enough to try that same tactic again..

 

“Kidnapped?”  Hawke’s eyebrows rose.  “I need to hear this story.  Does anyone else need to hear this story?”  Then, before Harry could answer, he said, “I think everyone does, of course.  To the Hanged Man!”  Hawke scooped Harry up before he could so much as protest and carried him out the door, bridal style.

 

Harry struggled until Hawke set him back down, then glared at his cousin.  “Don’t do that,” he complained.  “I’m perfectly capable of walking.”

 

Hawke beamed down at him.  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re adorable when you’re angry?”  His cousin reached out and patted him on the head.  Harry tried to bat his hand away, but failed and instead had to endure the condescending pats.  “Like a kitten!  You kind of fluff up when you’re irritated.”

 

“He does, doesn’t he?”  Fenris’ teasing tone made Harry flush ever so slightly, and even worse was the way his cousin’s eyes widened when he caught the expression.

 

Hawke opened his mouth to say something, doubtlessly something teasing that would give away Harry’s entirely harmless, ridiculous crush on his guard, and Harry kicked him in the shin before he could.  “You kicked me!” his cousin yelped, reaching down to rub his shin.  “What in Andraste’s name possessed you?”

 

“You told me I looked like a kitten,” Harry said primly.  “I just felt the need to remind you that kittens have claws.”

 

“Like I didn’t know that,” Hawke said, and sulked for the rest of the trip to the Hanged Man.

 

As Harry had suspected, his cousin either forgot about or chose not to mention the flush on Harry’s cheeks from Fenris’ statement, and also forgot to sulk once reunited with the others in the Hanged Man.  It turned out that everyone had known he was coming back, and as such Merrill and Isabela were waiting with Varric in his rooms, a veritable feast laid out before them.

 

“Aveline was going to join us, but she had some kind of emergency among the guards and sends along her regrets.  Sebastian almost always refuses to join us in our den of iniquity, but I’m sure you knew that, Lightning.”  Varric saluted him with a goblet of wine, or of something anyway, and added, “Welcome back, by the way.”

 

“Glad to be here,” Harry said, and settled into his customary seat.  “So, do you all want to hear about the last task now, or should I wait until everyone’s nice and drunk?”

 

“Tell me you slaughtered your competition,” Isabela begged.  “How could you not have?”

 

Harry couldn’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that burst free from him at the words.  Fenris’ darker chuckle joined his laughter, and Fenris said, “Oh, trust me, he definitely slaughtered someone.”

 

“The headmaster had no idea I was capable of that kind of damage,” Harry said through his giggles.  He calmed himself and took a sip of water, then said, “No, I mean, we laugh about it, but I was kidnapped straight from the middle of the maze we had to make our way through.”

 

“Kidnapped?”  The horrified word echoed through the group, as even Hawke repeated it even though he’d already heard at least that bit of news.

 

“Kidnapped,” Harry confirmed.  He hesitated, then soldiered forward.  “Actually, it was pretty terrible.  I… was stupid, let my guard down, and got cursed from behind.  When I woke up, they used my blood in a creepy ritual, and now old Voldemort is walking around again.”

 

The shout that erupted was loud, even for the Hanged Man, and Harry was concerned that someone might actually call a guard or something because of it.  Eventually, though, it settled, and Merrill said gently, “Harry, you know that you should be looked over.  Blood magic leaves a mark, especially when practiced on an unwilling victim.”

 

“I’ll let you look me over after I finish explaining what happened,” Harry said with a nod of agreement.  Yes, Madam Pomfrey had cleared him, but what did she know about the darker arts?  He trusted Merrill to know what she was talking about.

 

“So, what happened then?  Because, Lightning, this doesn’t sound too great.”  Varric was leaning forward, clearly ready for a good tale.

 

It was just a pity that Harry wasn’t as good at telling stories as the dwarf was.  “Well, Voldemort decided that he wanted to duel me before killing me, something about allowing his enemy to die an honorable death?  Anyway, they cut me down from my bonds, and Voldemort drew his wand on me.  They’d found my primary blades, but not the hidden ones you guys got for me, so I made them regret the decision to let me go.  I think I took out at least ten of his Death Eaters, maybe more.  Got Pettigrew, and I made sure he was dead this time.  And I snapped Voldemort’s wand.”

 

“You didn’t!” Sirius crowed, transforming abruptly from Padfoot back to himself.  Fortunately, everyone was used to these transformations by this point and nobody jumped or threatened to hit him for startling them.  “Pup, that’s brilliant!”

 

“How’d you get home?” Isabela asked.  “Did your Headmaster come and rescue you?”

 

Harry snorted.  “Please, he didn’t even know I was missing until I reappeared with the Cup.  I told him all about what had happened, and his response was to be shocked by the carnage I’d left in my wake.  I told him about Moody, too, and the fool didn’t listen.  Or didn’t want me to realize that he’d already known.  One of the two.”

 

“I got the extreme pleasure of ripping the imposter’s heart out through his chest,” Fenris said.  His grin was ever so slightly bloodthirsty.  “Since he’d already told the Headmaster about me, I don’t know why he was so shocked when I acted.”

 

“The Headmaster knows about you?” Hawke asked, his eyes going serious for a moment.  “That’s good.  That means you can go back next year without the aid of the Cloak.”  He hesitated, then added, “If you’re willing, of course.”

 

“You’ve given the boy into my charge, Hawke,” Fenris said shortly.  “I’ve grown rather fond of him over this past year.  I’m afraid that I’m not willing to let him walk into danger alone.”

 

Harry looked down at his empty plate and willed his cheeks to stop heating every time Fenris said something nice about him.  This was nothing.  Puppy love.  A crush.  He needed to get over it before Fenris found out, because he’d be mortified.  And if Isabela found out!  The thought was enough to make the blush go away, and Harry almost sagged with relief.

 

“So, all this food, is it just for staring at?” he asked, trying to change the subject.  It was a transparent attempt, but one that was allowed.

 

The gathering soon devolved into feasting and revelry, followed by a few rousing hands of Wicked Grace, followed by drunken revelry, followed by Harry waking up the next morning with a pounding headache and absolutely no idea where his wand had gone.

 

It was returned to him by a smirking Isabela when he made his way downstairs for a light breakfast, who told him that he should take care with his wand, since letting ladies play with it could lead to unfortunate accidents.

 

Harry hadn’t missed that part of things, that was for sure.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The first week or two of the summer passed quietly, lazily, with nothing more going on than an occasional jaunt through the dark of Hightown to dispatch some idiots who were trying to set up shop.  Another few jaunts through the docks were in order, but Hawke hadn’t gotten to them yet, and Harry wasn’t eager to start.  They were always so messy, after all, even if they did provide lots of shiny gold coins to play with.

 

It was after one late night chasing out what Harry hoped were the last of the Hightown idiots that Harry found himself back at the Hanged Man with Varric, Fenris, and Hawke.  Isabela hadn’t helped with the sweep, but was drinking in the tavern when they arrived.  Merrill had been invited along, but had declined on account of the fact that there were still people going missing in the alienage, and she wanted to try and figure out why.

 

Hawke had offered to help, but as yet Merrill hadn’t taken him up on the offer.  Harry hoped that she did.  He knew that she was working hard to keep her fellow elves safe, and was sad on her behalf that it just didn’t seem to be working.

 

Sirius was at home, meaning that the tavern was quieter than normal.  Harry loved his godfather, but the man had no sense of when it was time to settle down.  And speaking of his godfather…  Harry hesitated, then stood up and went to sit next to Isabela.

 

“What’s up, precious?” Isabela asked, taking a sip of whatever swill was in her cup.

 

“You and Hawke and my godfather,” Harry said easily.  “What’s up with that?”

 

Isabela smiled at him, then reached out and patted him on the head.  “I think you’re a little young to be worried about things like that, aren’t you?”

 

Harry raised an eyebrow at her.  “I thought you weren’t the settling down type,” he said to the pirate.

 

She laughed, the sound echoing throughout the almost-empty tavern and drawing the eyes of Hawke and Fenris.  Varric, who was staring down at something scribbled on a piece of paper, didn’t even look up.  “Oh, precious, you’re just adorable,” she said, and patted him on the head once more before withdrawing her hand.  “Look, your godfather and your cousin?  Those two are besotted with each other.  It’s disgusting.  But me?  I’m just a bit of fun, and honestly, we’re all okay with that.”

 

Harry hesitated, then leaned in closer to his tutor in knife work.  “And Hawke?  Is he… I mean, Anders died just last year.  How’s he doing?”

 

Isabela sighed.  “That’s more difficult, precious.  I think he’s doing just fine, but then, I didn’t realize that Anders was as close to snapping as he apparently was.   He didn’t really start seeing your godfather until… oh, until around the time we all exchanged gifts with you!  Do I think that was enough time to really mourn Anders?  That I couldn’t say.”  She shrugged, and took another sip of her drink.  “But they seem happy enough.”

 

Harry sighed.  “It’ll have to do, I guess.”

 

“What’re you two talking about so seriously over here?” Hawke asked, dropping in suddenly on the conversation and slinging an arm around Harry and Isabela.

 

“Your love life,” Harry said honestly.  Then he gave his cousin a cheeky little grin.  “Such as it is.  The things she’s telling me, Hawke.”

 

“Hey, what are you telling him?” Hawke demanded of Isabela.

 

She winked at him.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

It was, of course, at that precise moment that the dwarves attacked.

 

The fight that followed was frantic and bloody, as most fights tended to be when both Harry and Isabela were involved.  It was quick paced and over faster than most, but Harry still groaned when he realized that this was the same group of dwarves that had attacked him and Fenris at Hogwarts, and the same one that had been bothering Hawke for who knew how long.  

 

They were nuisances, and Harry wanted to figure out what they wanted and just deal with it already.  “These damned dwarves,” Harry muttered, kicking one of the corpses resentfully.  The fight had almost been over before it had begun, but that didn’t mean that Harry didn’t hate them all the same.  What kind of idiots kept trying the same technique over and over again, no matter how many times it failed?

 

“What are you complaining about?” Hawke asked.  “You haven’t had to fight them before!  These dwarves have been at me like clockwork for the past few months.”

 

“We did fight them before,” Fenris corrected.  “I think Harry and I forgot to mention.  Our last day at Hogwarts they attacked us in the Great Hall, and Harry and I were forced to put them down in front of the children.  His headmaster was quite horrified.”

 

Hawke snorted, then the smile dropped slowly from his face.  “These guys keep coming for me, and I have no idea what they’re after or why they’re after it.  We’ve got to do something to stop it, though, because I can’t have Harry being attacked at school by people who are after me.  He’s got enough to deal with there with that dark lord moldy shorts or whatever the hell his name is.”

 

“Well,” Varric said, drawing out the word.  He waved the scrap of paper he’d been studying earlier.  “It looks like I might have a line on where these guys are coming from and what they’re after.  What say we go investigate?  It could be a fun adventure!”

 

Hawke hesitated, then glanced around at the havoc they’d caused in the Hanged Man.  “Yeah,” he said finally.  “Let’s go handle this.  But tomorrow, after everyone’s had some sleep.  We’ll make quicker work of it when we’re well-rested.”

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Quicker work of it when well-rested?  Harry would have hated to see what things were like when they weren’t making quick work of it.  The adventure that followed, if it could even be called that, was a nightmare that seemed to last forever.  It took them days to reach the Carta base where the dwarves were coming from, and once they’d reached the base…

 

The spectral dragon had been fun to fight, Harry would admit, but that had been the only fun thing about the mess.  The fortress they’d had to get to the bottom of, that had been the absolute worst.  It had taken them what felt like forever to navigate the tower, and then a full day of fighting to handle the demon that had been sealed off inside the tower.  Or the darkspawn.  Or the magister.  It depended on who was asked about Corypheus, whatever the hell he was.

 

Harry was just glad to see the last of him, especially since he’d been knocked around quite a bit during the fight.  He had a few open wound still, since they no longer had a healer with them and most of his poultices had to be saved in case of an emergency on the way back to Kirkwall.

 

There was just one small problem.  Harry couldn’t quite shake the feeling that they hadn’t actually seen the last of Corypheus.  Something had just… it had been off with Larius, and Harry had no idea what it was.  But still, they’d made it out safely, and Harry found himself relieved to just be standing in the sunlight once more.  He was exhausted, but just being in the light was helping with that tiredness.

 

“Can we please head back to Kirkwall?” Isabela was asking as she wiped off something dark and brown that had crusted to her daggers.  She wasn’t even trying to clean her clothing, which was stained with unmentionable fluids.  All of them were pretty filthy, even Hawke and Varric who both normally stayed far out of range of the fighting.

 

“Yes, thank the Maker,” Hawke muttered.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then his normal grin finally returned to his face.  It had been absent ever since the reveal that his father had participated in the warding of the tower, but now Harry’s cousin seemed almost to be at peace with that fact.

 

“Oh, good,” Merrill was saying as they started to pick their way back through the barren, rocky landscape that had housed the base and the tower.  “I could use a bath.  Not that I mind roughing it, of course, but I’ve grown used to things like being clean.  It’s quite the lovely sensation.  And not worrying about the way everyone smells…”  Merrill let out a blissful sigh.

 

Harry laughed.  “Being able to bathe whenever I want is pretty awesome,” he agreed.  “Especially in the summer.  It was never a problem at Hogwarts, but…”  He stopped talking abruptly, realizing that he’d never actually told his cousin about the worst of the problems with the Dursleys.

 

“But… what?” Hawke asked, his voice deceptively mild.

 

“Nevermind!” Harry said quickly.  He started to walk a little bit faster, hoping that he could avoid the interrogation that was sure to start.  Especially since, while the sun was nice, the heat was starting to get to him.  Didn’t everyone else feel how warm it was?

 

He should have known better, as in short order he found Isabela behind him and his cousin in front, neither looking inclined to move.  “When did you have a problem with taking normal baths?” his cousin asked, ever so sweetly.

 

Harry sighed and surrendered gracefully rather than fighting until he was forced into capitulation.  “My Aunt and Uncle were afraid of me, so they locked me in my room during the summer.  They fed me through a cat flap and let me out to use the bathroom once a day.  It wasn’t that bad, and since I wasn’t doing any kind of work or anything, it’s not like I got sweaty or anything like that.”

 

“That’s awful!” Merrill exclaimed.

 

Harry shrugged.  “It was just for two summers.  My last summer, I came here, and you know the rest.”

 

“I wish you would have told me sooner,” Hawke said, and rested a careful hand on Harry’s shoulder like he was afraid he would break.  “I would have definitely done terrible things to them when we went to visit them last year.”  Then he brightened.  “Actually, it’s not too late.  I could still go do awful things to them!”  Hawke turned to Fenris, who was listening with a scowl on his face.  “Care to help out, Fenris?”

 

Harry expected an objection, not a short and definite, “Yes.”

 

Well.  That was awkward and embarrassing, and Harry didn’t want to think about them confronting the Dursleys over their treatment of Harry.  He didn’t want to think about the things the Dursleys would say about him, or the chances, however nonexistent they were, that Hawke might wind up agreeing with them.  He knew it was silly, but he just didn’t want to risk it.  “I’m fine, guys,” Harry tried.

 

“Are you sure?” Hawke demanded.  His cousin was studying him, his brow furrowed in a frown.  “It wouldn’t be a problem at all to go and make their lives a living hell, you know.”

 

“Really,” Harry insisted, his voice shaking a little.  Was he that unnerved, or was it just the awful heat that was getting to him?  And why was the world spinning?  Why was it going… dark...

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

When Harry woke up, physically he felt infinitely better.  Mentally and emotionally, however, he was horribly embarrassed.  His cousin was sitting by his bedside, Sirius was curled up in Padfoot’s form at the foot of the bed, and Fenris was settled in the other chair, flipping through a book.  Harry couldn’t tell if the elf was actually reading or not, but given how fast he was going, Harry was pretty sure he was just flipping through it.

 

“I’m awake,” he said, and sat up.  He shoved the light sheet off of himself and drew his knees up to his chin.  “How long was I out?”

 

“The whole trip back,” Hawke answered.  His cousin sat up straight and scrubbed at his smile-less face.  “You… from what we can tell, you got bitten by something in that damned tower, and because none of us are healers, none of us caught it until you passed out in our arms!”  Hawke shook his head and looked away.  “You almost died.”

 

Harry swallowed.  “How…”  he cleared his throat.  “How did you manage to save me?”

 

“How else?”  Hawke shrugged, looked down at his hands.  “I went to the Circle and begged for the help of a healer.  Meredith was ever so inclined to assist, especially once I volunteered to do a favor or two for her.”

 

Harry winced.  “Hawke, you didn’t have to-”

 

“I have lost too many people in my life to lose you too!” Hawke snapped.  He scrubbed at his face again.  “This can’t happen a third time, Harry.  The first time, the one with the high dragon, we had Anders. He got you put back together with relatively little difficulty, but this time?  This time you could have died.  I think you need to stop coming out with us.”

 

“No!”  The words burst from Harry’s lips before he could stop himself.  When Hawke simply raised an eyebrow at him, Harry struggled to find the words to make his cousin understand.  “I get that it’s dangerous, Hawke, but everything in my life has been just as dangerous.  I could have died before coming here, before meeting you, at least three times in my career as a student.  Maybe more, if you consider detention in the Forbidden Forest and smuggling a dragon out of Hagrid’s hut and following the damned spiders, amongst other things!  Going out with you isn’t just both dangerous and fun, it’s helpful.  I wouldn’t have survived my recent kidnapping if I hadn’t been able to use my blades.”

 

Hawke rubbed at his forehead.  “I just… I can’t keep you safe, Harry, and that frightens me.  You’re a good kid.  You should… I don’t know, you should have a chance to be a kid rather than an assassin.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed, because that didn’t sound like his cousin at all.  “Is that you talking, or is that the Captain of the Guard?”  

 

Hawke looked down.  “It’s true that Aveline did have some things to say about your condition when you were brought back, but Harry, she raises some valid points.”

 

“Fenris can keep me safe on adventures,” Harry said stubbornly.  “I’m not stopping just because Aveline doesn’t think it’s appropriate that I keep going out with you.”

 

“He didn’t keep you safe this time!” Hawke snapped, then his face fell even further.  “Fenris, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

 

“You did,” Fenris said evenly.  “But it’s true.  It is also true that I was the guard of a magister for many years, and I am very good at keeping people safe even when they persist in placing themselves in foolish situations.  If I cannot keep Harry safe, then you should accept that nobody can.”

 

Hawke’s eyes narrowed.  “I don’t accept that at all.”

 

“What if something like the Qunari attack happened while he was waiting in the mansion for you to come back from an adventure?” Fenris asked, leaning back in his chair and closing his book.  “What then?  You would be too worried about him to do anything productive, especially since he’d be all but alone.”

 

Harry groaned and buried his head in his hands.  The two continued their conversation over his head, but Harry wasn’t paying attention any longer.  He was too busy considering possible solutions, since apparently everyone was too pigheaded to just take his word that things were fine.  The fact was, he’d had enough of boring summers spent locked in a room, allegedly completely safe.  He wanted to go out and explore and go on adventures, whether people wanted him to or not.

 

There was a part of him that wanted to point out that he could go out on his own and Hawke couldn’t really stop him, mostly because Hawke was never home.  That part of him he ignored, because he knew that saying something like that would only help prove that Aveline was right and he had no business going out into danger with Hawke.  But there had to be something he could say!

 

Then, as Harry scanned the room for ideas, his eyes landed on a book that was open on his desk.  It was his potions text.  Anders had helped him improve in potions, and he had no doubts that he would be able to successfully get an OWL in the subject this year.  But… more importantly…

 

“You said the problem was that we no longer had a healer,” Harry said, drawing both Hawke’s and Fenris’ eyes back to him.

 

“Yes,” Hawke said, drawing the word out like he wasn’t entirely sure where Harry was going with his statement.

 

“When I arrived here, you also thought that there was a chance that I had the potential to be a mage.  Did we ever figure out if I did or not?”  He wasn’t sure if this would work if he wasn’t, but he had to try.

 

“Meredith seems to think that you are,” Hawke said finally, slowly, into the long silence.  “And if anyone would recognize an untrained apostate, I suppose it would be her, rabid bitch that she is.  Why?”

 

“Because if the problem is that we need a healer, and I am an untrained mage, couldn’t I be the healer?”  Harry smiled brightly up at his cousin, pleased with his solution.  If he managed to make it as a healer, then he would become invaluable to the group.

 

Hawke looked flummoxed, then he glanced at Fenris.  “Harry,” Hawke said carefully.  “There are… dangers, that come with being a mage.  If you are one, I can’t imagine why you haven’t run into them before.  But…  but Fenris might not be willing to guard-”

 

“Do not use me as an excuse to keep him locked away in this drafty old mansion,” Fenris bit out.  “You’ve spent the past decade arguing to me that not all mages were a problem, so don’t try to tell me that your cousin is suddenly going to turn into a ravening monster when you haven’t done it yet.  I’ve known Harry for long enough to tell you that he’s cut from the same cloth you are, and I don’t believe that either one of you would ever make a deal with a demon unless the situation were more dire than any we’ve faced yet.”  Fenris sat back with a small huff, his cheeks ever so slightly pink.

 

“I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me, Fenris,” Hawke said wonderingly.  He let out a small laugh.  “Okay then.  If Fenris is willing to continue guarding you, then we can start working on your training tomorrow.  We’ll see if you even have an affinity for healing, or if you’re an attacker like myself.  If you’re more on Merrill’s end of things, we’ll…”  Hawke paled at the sudden glare from Fenris and quickly corrected himself with, “I’ll still be the one training you, of course.”

 

Harry sagged with relief at the confirmation that he’d succeeded in finding a solution.  “Awesome,” Harry said, and grinned up at his cousin.  “Thanks, Hawke.”

 

“Don’t thank me,” Hawke warned.  “I’m going to be brutal while teaching you magic, Harry, because you’ve absolutely got to be able to defend yourself.  It’ll be just as bad as when you were learning your daggers with Isabela.”

 

The words didn’t shake the grin from Harry’s face.  “That’s cool,” he said.  “I was just starting to miss getting knocked around while trying to keep an eye on fifty things at once.”

 

Hawke finally, finally, smiled.  It was small, but it was there.  “Then we start in the morning.  Early.  First thing.  Before you’re even awake, maybe.  Maybe I’ll wake you up with a fireball or something.”

 

Harry raised an eyebrow at him.  “You really want to startle me out of bed with an explosion?” he asked doubtfully.  “I mean, if you want to, I guess it’s your house.  Just don’t blame me when I fight back.”

 

Hawke didn’t answer, but did stand and stretch.  Then he crossed over to the bookshelf on the wall of Harry’s room and grabbed a few of the volumes there, seemingly at random.  “And, before we start doing anything fun, you’ll have a quiz on the first three chapters of each of these books.  So I suppose someone had better start reading, because it’ll take you the rest of the day to get through them.”

 

The books landed with heavy thuds on Harry’s bed, one perilously close to Sirius’ unprotected nose.  His godfather just huffed and curled into a ball on the bed, going back to napping.

 

Harry groaned, but obediently picked up the first book to begin his studies.  He was excited, whether he should be or not.  This was going to be challenging, yes, but he had the feeling that it was also going to be a ton of fun.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The next week was awful, mostly because it turned out that Harry did have some affinity for healing magic.  And also for lightning magic, because his life was a cosmic joke.  The good news, Hawke had informed him gleefully after having been shocked by a stray spell, was that he’d be able to heal his enemies while at the same time conjuring a thunderstorm over their heads.  Because that just sounded so very logical.

 

Hawke, when Harry pointed out that there was no sense in healing someone he was trying to hurt, had simply grinned and said, “Yes, but think of the chaos you could cause, Harry!”

 

Harry had, reluctantly, conceded the point.

 

Then, Hawke had to go off on an adventure, and he refused to let Harry go with him.  Harry had protested, but Hawke hadn’t let up on his refusal, and when pressed had said only, “I refuse to let you get pulled into this mess of political bullshit.”

 

Harry realized that Hawke was probably going to fulfil the debt he’d gained with Meredith, and decided that he probably didn’t want to be around for whatever Hawke had to do.  So, slightly less irritated, he’d agreed to stay in Kirkwall with Fenris, and agreed not to go seek out trouble.

 

Well, that was fine and all, and Harry definitely hadn’t intended on seeking out trouble, but it occurred to him as he was sitting, bored, in the living room, all of his reading finished for the day and no Hogwarts homework to work on, that there was something he’d been meaning to do…  and technically it didn’t count as seeking out trouble…

 

“I’m going on an adventure,” he said to Fenris, and grabbed his daggers.  He still wasn’t allowed to carry his staff out of the house, and Harry was okay with that.  His daggers would be good enough for where he was headed.

 

“I thought that you’d promised not to try following Hawke,” Fenris protested, even as he stood and stretched, then grabbed his own blade.

 

“I did, and I’m not.”  Harry grinned brightly.  “In fact, I wouldn’t even call this an adventure, really, not a proper one, anyway.  I’m going to be staying in Hightown the whole time.  And it’s the middle of the day, so it’s not like I can get into trouble or anything.”

 

Fenris was staring at him, both eyebrows raised in an expression of not-so-polite disbelief.  “I think you’re full of shit,” his guard said bluntly.  “You’re up to something, and I don’t know that I approve.”

 

“But you’re coming anyway?” Harry asked, still grinning.

 

“Of course I’m coming anyway, don’t be ridiculous.”

 

Fenris followed him out the door, and Harry was pretty sure that he was surprised when they really didn’t leave Hightown, and in fact when they didn’t go very far at all.  The Viscount’s Keep wasn’t exactly far away from Hawke’s mansion, after all.

 

“What are you doing?” Fenris hissed as they entered the massive, palatial building.

 

It was the first time Harry had been there without Hawke, and he took his time looking around and greeting the people who greeted him.  He ignored Fenris, and instead continued to make his way deeper into the Keep.  He hadn’t gone with Hawke that many times, but he knew the way to his destination.

 

“Harry,” Fenris hissed as they made their way into the guard’s barracks.  “Harry, what are you doing?”

 

“Shush,” Harry muttered.  He walked right up to the Guard Captain’s door and knocked on it, as though he had every right to do so.

 

“Enter!” Aveline called out from within.

 

“Harry!” Fenris snapped, even as Harry opened the door and entered her office.

 

“Harry,” Aveline said evenly from behind her desk.  She glanced behind him and frowned when only Fenris slunk into the room.  “Is your cousin not with you?”

 

“Hawke had other matters to handle, and he didn’t want me involved,” Harry said with an airy wave of his hand.  “Say, do you have a minute?”  He beamed at Aveline, doing his best impression of his cousin that he could.

 

It worked, and Aveline went ever so slightly pale.  “You’re just like him,” she muttered, shaking her head.  “Kirkwall doesn’t need two of you.”  She put her papers down, though, and added, “Yes, all right, what do you need?”  She gestured for Harry to sit.

 

Harry didn’t, and chose to remain on his feet.  “I really need you to stop giving my cousin grief about letting me go on his adventures,” he said bluntly.  “I thought that we’d addressed this last summer, but apparently you were just biding your time to wait and say that you told him so.”

 

Fenris let out a choking sound.  “I’ll be out in the hall,” he said, and ducked out of the room.  Harry heard the heavy door close behind him.

 

Aveline stared at him, obviously unimpressed with him.  “I did tell him so.  Of all people, Hawke should know how dangerous Kirkwall is.  He’s lost his mother and his brother to this city, after all.”

 

“Right, his mother who never went on a single adventure in her life and yet died anyway after being targeted by a mage who wasn’t even after Hawke,” Harry said with an agreeable nod.  “Here’s the thing: what happens if he does leave me behind and his house gets broken into again?  He told me that it happened once before, but Blade caught the thief.  What happens if Blade’s not there, and I’m just sitting in my room twiddling my thumbs and someone decides he has a grudge against Hawke so he kills me?”

 

“I agree that situation wouldn’t be ideal,” Aveline said.  “Which is why you shouldn’t be here in Kirkwall at all.  You should return to your friends and family Outrealm, where you will be safe.”

 

“You mean where I’ll be locked in a small room and starved for the summer?” Harry asked, maintaining his sweet smile.  “Where I’ll be attacked by professors, by monsters hiding in the school, by the Dark Lord who wants me dead and had me kidnapped at the end of the year?  You mean I’ll be safe when I’m being forced to participate in dark rituals of resurrection, where the only way that I survived was because I knew how to use those daggers that you never wanted Hawke to teach me?  Is that what you mean?”

 

Aveline looked down and away.  “You’re angry,” she said.  “I understand that.  And while I understand that your life is dangerous, Harry, I just don’t think that Hawke should be making it even more dangerous.  I have very clear opinions on what’s right for children to be doing, and what you do with Hawke isn’t right.”

 

“But it’s going to happen anyway, so I’d sincerely appreciate it if you would stop making my cousin feel like shit for doing everything he can to protect me in a world that would rather I be dead than not.”  Harry backed up a single step and, when Aveline didn’t respond, said, “I’ve said what I came to say.  Thank you for your time.”  He turned to open the door.

 

“I’ll think on what you said,” Aveline said behind him.

 

Harry paused, his hand on the handle.  “Really, that’s all I can ask for,” he said.  Then he left her office to find Fenris leaning against the wall, looking like he felt incredibly out of place.  “Coward,” he told the elf, unable to keep some of the affection out of his voice.

 

Fenris either didn’t notice it or didn’t care, and said, “Discretion, I’ve heard, is the better part of valor.  I didn’t want to get involved in that mess.  Honestly, I’m surprised she let you live.”

 

“After yelling at Hawke for letting me get myself in danger? It’d be awfully hypocritical of her to attack me.”  Harry grinned, then started making his way out of the Viscount’s Keep.  “Care to go shopping?”

 

Fenris groaned.  “Not even a little bit,” he said, but followed Harry anyway.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

A full month into his new lessons, Harry woke up screaming.  The occurrence wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Harry, as it had happened a few times at Hogwarts starting just in the last year.  It wasn’t, however, something he’d done since arriving at Hawke’s home, and so he wasn’t at all surprised when his cousin barrelled into his room, staff on hand, eyes wild as he searched for the threat.

 

That would have been fine and all, except that Isabela had been visiting, so she joined Sirius in entering his room. All three of them were then knocked over by Blade, who also needed to figure out the cause of Harry’s screaming and charged into the room intent on doing some damage.

 

Harry, who could barely remember the thing that had caused him such terror only moments before, took one look at the three of them on the floor and burst into startled laughter.  “Are you guys okay?” he asked through his laughter.

 

“My dignity is bruised beyond any hope of repairing,” Hawke said from the pile of humanity that he was currently on top of.  “Somehow, I shall survive.”  Hawke got himself up, then helped Sirius.  By the time he reached for Isabela, she was already on her feet and brushing herself off.

 

“I don’t know, it looked like a pretty fatal fall from the top of your dignified mountain,” Harry said, his lips still twitching with his amusement.

 

Hawke shrugged.  “It’s not the worst.  I think the most undignified thing I ever did was flirt with a guard for the purposes of getting a key I needed.  I had to act like such a simpering idiot…”

 

“Act like?” Sirius echoed dubiously, and was rewarded with a playful shove from Hawke.

 

“But, off of the topic of my oh so fragile dignity, Harry, what was up with that scream?  You sounded pretty terrified, and yet I see nothing here to terrify you.”  Hawke glanced around the room like he was making sure, then turned his gaze back on Harry.  “Shall I have Fenris start guarding you from the shadows in your room?”

 

Harry flushed with embarrassment.  “A nightmare, I think,” he said.  “It was… it was pretty scary, but I don’t actually remember any of it.”

 

Hawke frowned.  “Okay then,” he said.  He glanced at Isabela and Sirius, and then said, “It might have something to do with your training as a mage.  You might be attracting some demons now that you’re actively using your magic.”

 

Harry winced at the thought.  “Fenris won’t like that,” he said, frowning.

 

Hawke shrugged.  “Hazard of being a mage, I’m afraid,” he said.  “And, oddly enough, he was in favor of it, so Fenris doesn’t get to not like it.  However, it might not come up!  There are some exercises we can do that will help you with blocking them out.  I’m sure you’re tired, but do you want to start them right now?”

 

Harry hesitated.  He was tired, but when he thought about closing his eyes and opening himself up to the terror that had woken him up… he shuddered.  “Yeah, okay, let’s start now.  Please.”  He didn’t want to ever have another dream like that if it was at all possible.

 

“Well, if that’s all it is, I’m going to head back to bed,” Isabela said.  “No offense to you, Harry, but mage training is boring for the ones watching it unless there are spells being slung about.”

 

“It’s pretty boring for the one learning it, too,” Harry said with a small smile.  “Goodnight, Isabela.”

 

“I’ll stay,” Sirius said around a yawn.  “I’m already up, might as well stare at my godson as he tries to learn new and not very exciting things.”

 

“Just don’t be too distracting,” Hawke said.  “Not at first, anyway.  Eventually I’ll have him doing these exercises on top of everything else, and at that point I’ll ask you to be as distracting as possible so that he learns what it’s like to multitask.”

 

Harry sighed.  “I hate you sometimes,” he said, even as he tried to wake himself up to start learning something new and, hopefully, something that would help him sleep better at night.

 

ooOOooOOOo

 

The rest of Harry’s summer was depressingly boring, if stressful in the worst of ways.  There was a part of him that wanted to go on more adventures because staying in Kirkwall proper was actually pretty horrible, but there was another part of him that wanted to focus on mastering the two schools of magic he was studying.

 

He was finding that he had quite the affinity for healing magic, more than he ever would have thought possible.  Before he’d realized how good it felt to heal injuries, even small ones, he’d been considering becoming a professional adventurer like his cousin.  Now though… he wondered what kind of life he’d have as a healer instead.  He’d always have to be on the lookout for Templars, but maybe it would be worth it.

 

It was with some shock that Harry had realized he was no longer considering careers in the wizarding world.  He didn’t want to be an Auror, and he didn’t want… he didn’t want to stay where he was put on a pedestal for something he’d done as a child.  He wanted to stay Outrealm, where he was at least recognized for deeds that he was doing, not for things that hadn’t really been his fault.

 

He wanted to stay where his godfather could be a free man instead of where he was hunted for crimes he didn’t commit.  Harry pretty furious about the fact that the Ministry hadn’t reacted at all to finding Pettigrew’s body.  He wanted to do something to help his godfather, but at the moment it looked like there was nothing he could do for him other than stay with him, Outrealm.

 

And… and Fenris wouldn’t be comfortable staying in the wizarding world, Harry knew that.  Elves weren’t at all common wandering Diagon Alley or attending Hogwarts.  Not that Harry should be counting on the comfort of Fenris, since his affection for the elf was undoubtedly a form of puppy love that would pass soon enough.  He hoped.  Because it had the potential to be terribly embarrassing.

 

As the end of the summer approached, tensions grew in Kirkwall.  Harry stayed mostly out of it at his cousin’s request, but he had the feeling that something was going to happen between the mages and the Templars, and it was going to happen soon.  Meredith was apparently getting more and more aggressive, and from what Harry could understand, the mages were pushing back.

 

As they should, in Harry’s opinion, but he kept his thoughts on the matter to himself.  Fenris wouldn’t appreciate them, and Hawke agreed with him already.  Sirius didn’t seem to care one way or another, he just seemed to enjoy lightening the tensions in the Hawke household with a few well-timed practical jokes.  And a few that were not as well-timed, actually.

 

Harry found that he didn’t want to leave when the time came, and he stopped at the docks.  “I don’t want to go,” he said to his cousin.

 

Sirius was there, and Sirius was the one who came forward and tugged him into a hug.  “I know you don’t,” he said honestly.  “Last year was shitty, and I think we all understand that.  But Fenris is going with you again this year, and he’s not even hiding since everyone knows about it.  He’ll probably be happy to serve as a buffer.”

 

“If you need me to,” Fenris said agreeably.  “I’m told I have an excellent scowl for driving others off.”

 

Harry smiled.  “Okay,” he said.  “I’ll give it another year.  But you have to promise to be careful, okay?”  He bit his lip as he looked around, and then he whispered, “Things are so tense, I almost expect open war to break out at any point.”

 

“You and me both,” Hawke said, glancing at the nearby Templar who was surveying the open water and was likely attempting to listen in on their conversation.  “We’ll be careful, but you be careful too, okay?”

 

“I will,” Harry agreed.

  
Then it was time to return to Hogwarts, and Harry went with a heavy step and a strong desire to return as soon as possible.  At least this time there wouldn’t be a Yule Ball and he’d be able to come back for Christmas.  That was something to look forward to.


	7. Chapter Six: Fifth Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets its own little warning for Umbridge. Because she deserves a warning all to her toad-like self.

Harry knew that something was wrong from the moment he stepped onto the train at the start of his fifth year.  Too many students stopped and stared at him, not that that was anything terribly new.  No, it wasn’t that they were staring at all, but rather it was the fact that many of them ducked away from him, keeping their heads down to avoid his gaze, that made Harry concerned.  Nobody had acted like that since they’d thought him the Heir of Slytherin in his second year.

 

Even when everyone had thought he’d put his own name in the Goblet of Fire, nobody had actively been frightened of him.  This was… peculiar, to say the least.  Perhaps it had something to do with the slaughter of the dwarves in the Great Hall?

 

“Something’s wrong,” he said to Fenris.

 

Fenris stared at the group of ducking children and shrugged.  “Did you expect for something not to be wrong this year?” he asked.  “Given the events of last year, and the events of years past that you’ve related to me, I find myself surprised that you’re surprised that something might be wrong.”

 

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes, then headed for the back of the train where he normally met Ron and Hermione.  Maybe seeing them would help…

 

But of course it didn’t, because Hermione immediately told Harry what was wrong:  “They’re calling you mad,” Hermione said.  Her eyes were warm with sympathy.  “They’re saying that there’s no way that Voldemort could have been resurrected, that there was some kind of accident that killed all those people that just happened to be Death Eaters, and you’ve just lost your mind.”

 

Well.  That was…  “Better than I expected, I guess,” Harry said with a shrug.  It could have been worse; they could have been calling for his arrest.  Being called crazy was honestly the last thing he cared about.  What did it matter what the wizarding world thought of him, anyway?  They’d realize the truth soon enough.  Or they wouldn’t, but it wouldn’t be his problem by then.  In three more years, he was planning on being long gone.

 

“How is that better than expected?” Hermione asked, incredulous.

 

Harry shrugged again.  “They could be calling for me to be put in Azkaban based on my cold-blooded murder of all of those Death Eaters.  Since they aren’t, I’ll take them calling me crazy any day.”

 

Hermione sat back with a huff.  “They shouldn’t be doing any of it,” she muttered.  “I don’t see how you can be content to be so maligned.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  If there was one thing he’d learned over the years it was that people couldn’t be stopped from saying what they wanted to say.  Agonizing over what they were saying about him just wasn’t something he had the energy for.

 

The silence stretched awkwardly between himself and his friends before Ron said suddenly, “Hey, but you know, there is some good news this year!”

 

“Oh?”  Harry wasn’t sure that whatever Ron counted as good news would really be actual good news, but he would take anything to take away from the tension that was seeping into their compartment.

 

“Malfoy’s not coming back this year,” Ron practically sang.  “His mother wanted to remove him from the “unsavory influences” at this school, or so my mother says.  She ran into Bones’ Aunt, who said something about it.  She’d heard it from Parkinson’s mother, who was complaining how upset her daughter was about the sudden change.”

 

Gossip.  What fun.  Still…  “Well, that’s one less nuisance for us to worry about this year,” Harry said, perking up a bit.  He could deal with the general populace thinking he was mad; what did he care about that?  But Malfoy always had the gift of making a bad situation ten times worse, so Harry couldn’t say he was sad to hear that the blonde nuisance wouldn’t be back.

 

“His mom’s probably withdrawn him from Hogwarts to teach him how to be a proper little Death Eater,” Ron was saying gleefully.  “Taking his father’s place since you killed him and all.”

 

“Ron!” Hermione’s disapproval was thick in the name.  “You can’t just… just gloat over the death of a person’s father like that, no matter how much of a nuisance Malfoy was.”

 

“Don’t tell me not to be happy that there’s a few less Death Eaters in the world,” Ron shot back, his eyes narrowing.

 

Right.  An argument.  The rest of the ride was spent ignoring Ron and Hermione as they bickered back and forth over the proper behavior for dealing with a dead parent, no matter how much the surviving child was hated, and Harry chose to practice his chess game on Fenris.

 

He was dismayed to see that, no matter the fact that Fenris had never before played in his life, the elf slaughtered him each and every time.  It would seem that his time with his cousin had done nothing to improve his grasp of strategy.

 

It had the benefit of amusing Fenris, though, so every loss was more than worth it.

 

Before he knew it, the train ride was over and Ron and Hermione weren’t speaking to each other.  The carriage ride up to the castle was awkwardly silent, with Fenris visibly stifling his amusement.  Perhaps it wouldn’t look like that to anyone who didn’t know the surly elf, but Harry was almost certain that was the expression on his face.

 

The Great Hall was nice as always, but what wasn’t nice was the woman who cut off the Headmaster’s opening remarks.  She seemed sweet enough, but there was something about her… and the fact that she was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher certainly set off some alarms.

 

Fenris, seated beside him rather than hiding under the Cloak, had gone tense at the sight of her.  When Madam Umbridge had finished her speech, talking the sort of nonsense that made Harry fear for his grade in her class this year, Fenris poked him lightly in the side to get his attention.

 

“What?” Harry hissed as they started up the stairs towards Gryffindor’s common room.

 

“She’s got an air about her that makes me think of…”  Fenris went silent, then grimly continued.  “She reminds me of Danarius.  Make sure to stay on your guard around her, because somehow I doubt she’ll tolerate my presence by your side.”

 

“That’s what the Cloak is for,” Harry said.  Then he winced.  “If we can get away with it, given that we already used that trick.  I’ll keep my guard up just in case.”

 

Fenris nodded, and the two entered the common room with everyone else.  Harry was amused to see that Hawke had been right, and the vast majority of students avoided Fenris like he was carrying a deadly disease.  Either that or more than half the tower thought that Harry was mad.  Either way, it was fine.  Harry just wanted to head to bed early, anyway.  He had to practice those exercises he’d been learning from Hawke, and it was easier to do when it was quiet.  He could do it when doing all sorts of things, now, including while dueling with Isabela, but it was still easier when it was quiet.

 

He told Ron and Hermione that he was going to bed early, then headed up the stairs.  Apparently the Headmaster had known that Harry was going to be bringing Fenris again, because there was a cot set up by his bed that could only be for the elf.

 

Fenris wrinkled his nose at the sight of it.  “I believe the couch downstairs would be more comfortable,” he said.  He settled on the cot anyway.

 

“What’s the verdict?” Harry asked, even as he changed into his pajamas.

 

“It will do.”  Fenris stretched out on the cot, folded his arms beneath his head, and closed his eyes. 

 

Harry wasn’t fooled for a moment into thinking that Fenris was actually asleep already, but he appreciated the illusion.  “Goodnight,” he whispered, and settled in his own bed.  He focused on clearing his mind, then blocking off any and all intrusions that might come in the night.

 

His mind protected from the demons that liked to invade sleeping Mages’ brains, Harry drifted off to sleep.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Breakfast the next morning felt like it came all too early, especially when Harry glanced at his schedule and found with it a note requesting his presence in the Headmaster’s office before the first class of the day.  Harry sighed and scarfed down his breakfast.  It was a good thing he’d gotten used to eating quickly when he had to with Hawke, or he’d be angry.

 

He hated missing meals now.  Doubtlessly a holdover from his time with the Dursleys, and one he should probably consider working to correct, but it was what it was.  He didn’t have time to worry about something so comparatively minor most of the time, and he had the feeling that this year was going to be no exception.

 

Fenris fell into step beside him when he stood and headed off in the direction of the Headmaster’s office.  He heard Ron and Hermione calling questions after him, but all Harry said was that he would be back before classes started, hopefully.  Whatever the old man wanted, Harry had the feeling that it wasn’t actually any of their business.

 

The gargoyle jumped aside at the sound of the password that had been included at the bottom of the note (Chocolate frogs this year, apparently), and Harry went up to the Headmaster’s office.  The Headmaster was waiting as his desk and smiled when he caught sight of Harry.

 

“Good to see how prompt you are,” the Headmaster said, his eyes twinkling.  “Harry, I have to tell you, there are some concerns this year.”

 

“I, for one, am shocked,” Harry muttered.  “Let me guess, there are concerns that I’ve lost my mind and as such you’ll be needing to keep a closer eye on me?”

 

The Headmaster blinked at him.  “Why, no, my dear boy.  Certainly there are those who would say that you’ve gone mad, but none of that attitude has been fostered at Hogwarts.  No, no, the concerns this year are twofold.  First, that Voldemort might try breaking into your mind because of the link you have with him, and second that you shouldn’t have a bodyguard at the school.  What message do you think that sends to the first years?”

 

Harry blinked at the Headmaster, then let out a small, incredulous laugh.  “That I’ve been almost killed at least twice per year in this school,” he said, brushing aside the first matter of concern.  “My guardian is only being responsible by having Fenris at my side.”

 

“Surely there’s some exaggeration in there,” Dumbledore said, twinkling at him.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “Detention in the Forbidden Forest, that stupid maze beneath the school, Voldemort possessing a teacher, the house elf, the acromantulas, the loss of all the bones in my arm, the basilisk, the werewolf-”

 

“Remus Lupin is a good man!” the Headmaster objected.  “Harry, I never thought that you, of all people, would have an unkind thing to say about the man.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “I don’t.  He was the best teacher we’ve had for Defense Against Dark Arts, but he still tried to kill me, no matter how accidental the attempt was.  Do  I need to continue my litany, by the way, or are you getting my point?”

 

“Of course I see your point,” the Headmaster said with a sigh.  “I understand that you don’t feel safe at Hogwarts, Harry, and honestly I cannot blame you.  So I’m going to allow Fenris to stay, but I want you to know that there are elements within the school that won’t approve of him.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “Like Umbridge,” he said.

 

The Headmaster winced, but nodded.  “Like Madam Umbridge,” he agreed.  “So if you could see your way to doing everything in your power not to annoy the good professor, I would sincerely appreciate it.”

 

Harry nodded.  “Believe it or not, Headmaster, I never go out of my way to annoy people.”  He stood and stretched.  “Was there anything else?”

 

“Yes, the matter of your connection with Voldemort.”

 

Harry’s brow furrowed, confused.  “I don’t know what connection you’re talking about,” Harry said slowly.  It had certainly never been an issue before, so he wasn’t sure why Dumbledore wanted to make something of it now.

 

The Headmaster seemed startled by those words.  “You mean to say that you aren’t having any kinds of visions?” he asked, his eyes wide.  The twinkle faded ever so slightly and the old man shook his head.  “I’m not wrong,” he muttered, as though he’d forgotten that Harry was there.

 

“Headmaster?” Harry prompted, wondering what Headmaster Dumbledore was talking about.

 

The Headmaster shook himself, as though coming out of a trance.  “Sorry, my dear boy.  If you aren’t having visions or anything of that nature, I suppose there isn’t anything to worry about.”  The twinkle returned to the old man’s eyes.  “Go on, then, and make your way to your classes.  You’ve a lot to learn this year, what with your OWLs approaching.”

 

“Right,” Harry said slowly.  He turned and left, and once they were well clear of the Headmaster’s office he said to Fenris, “Did that seem strange to you?”

 

“Incredibly,” his guard said.  “I’ll add him to the list of people that I’m keeping an eye on.  I cannot lie, Harry, it’s growing by leaps and bounds this year.”

 

Harry’s lips twitched with amusement.  “It does seem like it’s shaping up to be a bad one,” he said.  Then he shoved his thoughts of doom and gloom aside and headed for his first class.  He might not want to be here, he might prefer to be at Kirkwall with Hawke, but he would do his best while he was here.  He never knew when his wand would come in handy out in Kirkwall, after all.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

_ Dear Hawke, _

 

_ This year is off to a stellar start, let me tell you.  We’ve got this new Professor here, Umbridge, who’s allegedly going to be teaching us Defense this year.  I find it difficult to believe that it’s actually going to happen.  She looks like someone’s grandmother.  Like the one that looks nice and looks like she’d bake cookies but just feeds you vegetables instead.  So not a particularly nice grandmother, not that I have any experience with any kind of grandmother.  Anyway. _

 

_ The Headmaster has already tried to coax me into sending Fenris away.  I told him no, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled with that.  We’ll see how many more times he tries before he gives up.  I’m considering asking Hermione to look into whether there are rules about allowing bodyguards at the school or not.  I’m thinking there aren’t, or the Headmaster would have just said that it wasn’t allowed and that would have been the end of it. _

 

_ He wanted to know if I was getting visions about You Know Who.  You do know who, don’t you?  I told you about that ridiculous moniker, right?  If not, have Padfoot explain.  Anyway, he wanted me to learn some way of blocking them, but since I’m not actually getting any visions, it didn’t seem important. _

 

_ That’s all I’ve got for now, but then again, it’s only just now after dinner on the first day of classes.  I’ll stay careful and do my best to keep myself in good condition.  Talk to you later! _

 

_ -Harry _

 

_ Hawke, _

 

_ This school is awful.  Why did you make him come back here for another year? _

 

_ -Fenris _

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“She can’t do that, Harry,” Hermione was insisting over dinner after their first Defense class, her teeth gritted.  “You didn’t even do anything wrong, so how can she just… just assign you a detention?”

 

“Yeah, you’ll miss Quidditch tryouts,” Ron said, frowning.  “I was gonna try this year, too.  But not if you’re not gonna be on the team.”

 

Harry, honestly, had forgotten all about Quidditch.  It was just one of those things that seemed less and less important as time went on.  That didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted to spend the time when he should be trying out for the team in detention, though.  “Technically, she told me to make Fenris wait outside the classroom and I refused.”  Harry shrugged.  “I suppose that, going by that, I did in fact disrespect her.”

 

“The Headmaster himself said that I could stay,” Fenris said.  “Could we not go to him and protest?”

 

Harry glanced at the Headmaster’s empty chair.  “We could try,” he said doubtfully.  “But I don’t know if the Headmaster is even here right now, and for all I know he’ll uphold her right to issue the detention.  So I’d rather not.”  He shrugged and finished up his dinner.  “It’s just one night of detention, guys.  How bad could it be?”

 

“Harry,” Hermione protested, even as he stood up.

 

“Guys, come on.  I don’t want to be late.”  Harry shrugged.  “Besides, I probably wasn’t going to try out for Quidditch this year, anyway.  It’s our OWL year after all.”  Not that he cared about OWLs either, but it was worth it to hear Ron’s sputtering shock behind him as he left the Great hall.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

How bad could it be?  Harry was going to regret ever saying that.  And Fenris was going to kill someone if he found out.  Harry did his best to wrap his hand before leaving Umbridge’s office, but his best wasn’t going to be good enough since she was shooing him out rather emphatically.

 

Still, the crude field dressing he applied should work, at least until he could get back to his dorm and get a potion or a poultice on the thing, so now it was just a matter of hiding the marks from Fenris.  He shoved his hand in his pocket and left the room, where Fenris fell into step beside him.

 

“I’m using the Cloak next time,” Fenris snarled.  “I didn’t like her being alone with you.”

 

Harry bit his lip.  “That might not be a good idea,” he said slowly.  A very loud voice inside of him was screaming at him to tell Fenris about the marks, to let him know what Umbridge was up to.  There was just one small problem:  Fenris would kill her then.

 

A much louder voice was pointing out that Umbridge was the Undersecretary to the Minister, whatever that meant.  The only person Fenris had killed at Hogwarts thus far had been an escaped Death Eater who nobody cared about.  But Umbridge?  People cared about Umbridge, Harry was sure of it.  The last thing he wanted was for the Ministry to attempt to imprison Fenris at Azkaban for the murder of the bitch.

 

“What do you mean you don’t think it’s a good idea?” Fenris demanded.  “She’s just like most magisters, Harry.  She’s awful, and leaving you alone with her seems to be a terrible idea.  There are things she could do to influence you that I wouldn’t begin to know anything about.”

 

Harry hesitated, then said slowly, “Yeah, but what if you get caught?”  He didn’t have to fake his shudder.  “You’ve seen how dangerous the school is, Fenris.  If you get caught, and if they force you out of the school, then I’m back to doing this on my own.  I’m pretty fond of you, you know.  I’d hate it if they made you leave.”

 

“I’d like to see them try,” Fenris growled.  Then he frowned and dipped his head in a nod.  “I take your point, though.  It would be easier to not give them a reason to try.”

 

Harry almost sagged with relief.  If Fenris didn’t try to sit in on his detentions, then there would be no reason for Fenris to kill Umbridge.  Boring her students wasn’t a crime, after all.  And Harry knew that there would be more detentions.  He’d earned his next one when he’d tried to refuse to write with the damned quill when he’d realized that it was marking up his hand.

 

He was certain that Umbridge would figure out even more ways to get him into detention, each one more creative than the next.  This year would be painful if it kept up, and part of Harry wanted nothing more than to go and cry to Fenris, to let Fenris take care of the problem for him.  He wouldn’t do it, though.  Not if it meant that Fenris could get in trouble with the government.

 

When he reached his room, he used the time that Fenris spent in the bathroom to try and treat the injury with one of his potions from Kirkwall.  It worked well enough to stop the bleeding, but it didn’t really do anything to heal the scratches.  Harry covered the cuts and made sure to be curled up like he was asleep before Fenris returned to the room.

 

It was a very long time before he went to sleep, however.  He couldn’t stop wondering how long it would be before the words  _ I must not tell lies _ were written on his skin forever.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

_ Hawke, _

 

_ Something’s very wrong with your cousin.  He’s taken to wearing his gloves from Thedas, which he’s never done here at Hogwarts before.  I think it has something to do with the detentions he’s serving with the new Professor.  She keeps assigning them, and he’s been to see her three times already.  It’s not even the third week of school yet!  He already has two lined up for the following week as well, and every time she assigns one Harry looks so defeated… _

 

_ If it weren’t for the fact that it could potentially get me arrested, which would do none of us any good, I would kill her now for Harry just to take that look away from him.  As it stands, I’m doing all I can and keeping an eye out.  I will kill her if necessary. _

 

_ -Fenris _

 

_ Fenris, _

 

_ I don’t like the sound of that.  You do what you have to, and worry about the consequences later.  Figure out what’s going on in those damned detentions, and don’t let Harry get all righteously indignant if something is wrong.  Remember, if you go to prison, we’ll come break you out. _

 

_ -Hawke _

 

_ Hawke, _

 

_ What makes you think these pathetic wizards would be able to take me to prison?  Do you think I would go quietly and not fight back?  Their Aurors are not made to stand up to a warrior like me, I swear to you. _

 

_ -Fenris _

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry was getting tired of being summoned to the Headmaster’s office, and it was only the second time of the school year.  He went, resentfully, after his dinner was over and hoped that it wouldn’t make him late for his detention with Umbridge.  While visiting Dumbledore was a perfectly valid excuse in his own mind, he doubted that the good Madam would see it that way.

 

When Harry arrived, he found the Headmaster waiting behind his desk, skimming through some paperwork.  “Ahh, Harry, thank you for being so prompt,” the Headmaster said, beaming at Harry.

 

Harry just sighed.  “I have a ton of homework, Headmaster, and a detention to serve.  So if we could hurry this up?”

 

“A detention, my dear boy?”  The old man looked genuinely concerned, but Harry found that he was having difficulty buying the genuinity of the expression.

 

“I’ve had several,” Harry said with a shrug.  It was only the third week of school and he was pretty sure the mark was going to be permanent on his hand.  Hawk would blow a gasket if he ever found out.  Harry would just have to keep that from happening…

 

“Yes, I find myself a bit concerned about the number of detentions you’ve been serving, actually.”  Headmaster Dumbledore stared at Harry over the rims of his spectacles.  “You really should do your best to stop irritating Madam Umbridge.  I’m certain that she’s a perfectly fine professor, and making her angry is only going to have a poor effect on your grades this year.”

 

If Harry had been entertaining any thoughts of going to any of the other professors for help with Umbridge, he surely would have given up on it just then.  Dumbledore didn’t know what she was doing, and most likely he didn’t care.  Why else would he just abandon the school to go off and do whatever?

 

Instead of saying anything more about the detentions, like protesting his innocence, Harry said, “Was there something you wanted other than to lecture me on my difficulties with Madam Umbridge?”

 

Dumbledore sighed.  “Harry,” he said, shaking his head.  “You’ve been so combative of late.  I’m worried about you.”   
  


Harry didn’t respond, just stared at the man.  Combative?  Harry supposed that was one word for what he’d been lately, though it wasn’t the word he would have chosen.  More inclined to stand up for himself, certainly, but not combative.

 

The Headmaster shook his head.  “Well, never mind.  I can see that you’re not in the mood to listen to my opinions on that matter.”  He took a lemon drop from his candy bowl, popped it into his mouth, and said, “I’ve been wondering if you’d started having any strange dreams of late.”

 

This again.  Harry slouched down in his chair in order to fight the urge to just get up and walk out.  “I haven’t,” he said, with the kind of forced calm he’d seen his cousin use the one time Merrill had been in the midst of something of a sugar high.  

 

“Are you quite certain?”  Now the Headmaster was leaning forward, the frown on his face growing quite severe.  “It’s dangerous to keep these dreams to yourself, Harry.  If you’re having them, you must tell me all about them.  Anything that you see or hear in the dreams could be a clue that we need.”

 

Harry sighed.  “I don’t remember most of my dreams,” he said.  “The ones that I do normally tend to involve a demon here or there trying to tempt me into letting them possess me in return for untold amounts of power.  I tend to tell them fuck off, because I’m not interested in becoming an Abomination.”  Harry raised his eyebrows at the Headmaster.  “Any other questions about my dreams?”

 

“Really, Harry, your language has become deplorable,” the Headmaster said, his frown growing ever more fierce by the second.  “I understand that you feel frightened by the content of your dreams, so I’m going to offer you special lessons in a certain skill that Professor Snape excels at.  He’s willing to tutor you-”

 

“No.”  Harry offered no explanation for the word, just the word itself, and in the firmest tone that he could manage.

 

The Headmaster jerked back, shock blooming over his face.  “I beg your pardon?”

 

“You don’t have to beg,” Harry said absently, before continuing with, “The answer is no.  I don’t want extra lessons from Professor Snape, no matter what those lessons are for.”

 

“Well, I…”  The Headmaster took a deep breath.  “Harry, I understand that you and Professor Snape have your differences-”

 

“Differences?” Harry echoed, incredulous.  “Headmaster, the good Professor has done his absolute best to make his class a nightmare for me every year that I’ve attended Hogwarts.  I have absolutely no intention of taking extra lessons from the man in anything at all, much less in something that would allow him access to my mind, as you seem to be implying.”

 

“Harry, I think you’re being unreasonable,” the Headmaster tried.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “My answer,” he said slowly, “Is no.  I don’t want extra lessons from Snape of all people, and if you’re prepared to force the issue, I’m prepared to withdraw from Hogwarts.”  Harry drew his wand and presented it to the Headmaster so that the old man could take it and snap it if he wanted to.

 

Dumbledore just sighed and rubbed at his forehead.  “Obviously I’m not going to ask you to do that,” he said, still rubbing at his head.  “I’m just worried for you.”

 

“I don’t need your worry regarding the sanctity of my mind.”  He needed it for other things, but he was pretty sure that the Headmaster didn’t care about those other things.  “Did you need anything else?”

 

“No,” Dumbledore said, sounding utterly defeated.

 

Harry stood and left, and was twenty minutes late to his detention with Umbridge.  He received two more detentions because of it.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

He had known that it would be impossible to keep his injuries from Fenris forever, but he’d hoped that it would take the elf longer to decide that the risks of being caught under the Invisibility Cloak were far lower than the risks of allowing Harry to continue in the detentions unsupervised.  And Harry was the idiot who didn’t realize that his cloak had gone missing again because Fenris had taken it.

 

He made it out of the classroom and thought it strange that Fenris wasn’t there to walk him back, but didn’t dwell on it.  Perhaps the elf had gotten caught up in avoiding the strange group of girls that had taken to following him around Hogwarts with stars in their eyes and their hearts on their sleeves.

 

He made it all the way back up to his room, in fact, and was trying to figure out which of his salves would be best to slow the bleeding this time, when Fenris stripped off the cloak and sat on the bed across from him.  Harry jumped, having had no idea that Fenris was there.

 

“Show me,” Fenris said, his voice whisper-soft.  There was something in the demand that reminded Harry that Fenris was actually one of the most dangerous people that Harry knew, and Harry didn’t dare object.

 

He gave his hand over to Fenris, who carefully removed the glove and studied the words carved into the back of Harry’s hand.  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Harry said quietly.

 

“I must not tell lies,” Fenris said, quoting the words on his hand.  “Good advice, but not words that need carving onto the skin to remember.”  Fenris was lighting up the room, Harry realized suddenly, his lyrium tattoos fully glowing.  “Tell me the truth, now.”

 

“It burns,” Harry said finally.  He wanted to take his hand back from Fenris, but at the same time didn’t want to.  He felt oddly embarrassed at having his hand exposed and wanted to go back to covering it up, but at the same time, Fenris knew this wasn’t his fault.  It wasn’t something he wanted to have done to him.

 

“I’m going to kill her,” Fenris said slowly, conversationally.  “I’m going to rip her heart out, do you understand me?”

 

“No!”  The word tore from Harry’s lips before he could stop it.  “You can’t, Fenris, please.  She’s… she’s really important, and I don’t want you to get in trouble for hurting her.”

 

Fenris stared at him, his lips curled into a snarl.  “I want to kill her for hurting you,” he said.  “This is not an emotion that I’m comfortable with.”

 

“I’m sorry.”  Harry wasn’t sure what else there was to say to something like that.  Well, other than, “You can’t kill her, Fenris.  She’s got a lot of power, or she wouldn’t be teaching here at Hogwarts this year.”  That was the only explanation that made sense, after all.

 

Fenris breathed in slowly, and the glow from his tattoos gradually faded.  “You were going to treat this?” Fenris finally asked.  Harry noted that he didn’t make any promises not to kill Umbridge, but he also didn’t say that he was definitely going to.

 

It was probably the best that Harry could hope for.  “Yes,” he said.  “I’ve tried a couple of different salves on it, and this one is the one that worked the best.”  He handed the jar to Fenris and tried not to shiver as his guard carefully tended the wound, then wrapped it with gentle, quick fingers.  “Thanks,” he said, glad that the room was so dark so that Fenris couldn’t see his blush.

 

It was almost enough to make him forget the pain he was in.

 

All warm feelings went away when Fenris said, “I’m telling Hawke about this.”

 

“You can’t!”  Harry’s eyes widened and he lunged forward, tugging on Fenris’ arm.  “Fenris, please, you can’t put something like this in a letter!  Think about it, Hawke would storm the school!  It’d be a nightmare!”

 

“I never said it would be in a letter,” Fenris said coolly.  “Though I don’t see what waiting until I see him in person will do, other than allowing that monster to have access to you for a longer period of time.  And if you think he won’t still storm the school even if we tell him in person, I swear to you that you’re very wrong.”

 

Harry shook his head.  “I’ll talk to him over break.  Tell him myself, I promise.”  He had no intention of honoring that promise, because he didn’t want his cousin to go to jail for murdering Umbridge either.  It was just for one year, that was all he had to handle.  One year of this, then Umbridge would be gone.  She was a Defense professor, after all, and they never lasted.

 

“If you promise,” Fenris said slowly.

 

“I do,” Harry said.  “I really do.”

 

“Very well.  You’ll tell him on break.”  Fenris held out his hand.  “Now give me the salve and let me help you clean this up a bit.”

 

Harry breathed out in relief.  One year of this.  He could handle it.  “Okay,” he said aloud, and handed it over to Fenris gratefully.  It was difficult dressing his hand with only his one hand, after all.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Another week had passed when Harry was cornered by Hermione.  “Harry,” she said brightly, falling into step with him on their way to potions class.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  Neither of his friends had much time for him this year, but that was fine because he honestly didn’t have much time for them either.  “What?” he asked, a little warily.

 

“I’ve a proposal for you,” Hermione said.  She shifted so that she was in front of him, blocking his way to class.  Since they still had about twenty minutes before class actually started, Harry wasn’t too irritated.

 

“What?” he asked again, not any more welcoming than he’d been the first time.

 

“It’s about our Defense classes,” Hermione said.  “I’ve… got some concerns about Umbridge and our ability to be prepared for our OWLs with her teaching the class.  So…”  She hesitated, shifting awkwardly.  “You’re top of the class in Defense, or you were before Umbridge took over, so I was wondering if you might like to start a kind of extracurricular study group?”

 

Harry blinked at her.  Realizing he was sounding like a broken record, but without much more to say, Harry simply went with another, “What?”

 

Hermione sighed.  “You’d be perfect at it!  And I would help you, of course, with all the planning and everything.  I could get a word of mouth message going and we could have a meeting during the next Hogsmeade weekend.  There’s a pub that nobody ever goes to since it’s so far away-”

 

“No,” Harry said, interrupting her prattle, using the same technique he’d used on the Headmaster.  That is to say that he kept his voice firm and uncompromising and hoped for the best.

 

Hermione blinked at him.  “What?”

 

“No,” Harry repeated.  He shook his head and walked around her, starting on his way to class.  Fenris fell into step behind him, scowling hard enough to try to hide the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.  It didn’t work, but that could have been because Harry knew him so well.

 

“But don’t you care about your OWLs?” Hermione asked, catching up quickly.

 

Harry shrugged.  “Not really,” he said honestly.  “And if I did, I would say that my OWLs will be fine.  It’s everyone else who ought to worry.  But honestly, it’s not because I don’t care.  It’s because most of the students here still stare at me like I’m a madman, and I’ve got no interest in helping them with anything.  What would it get me?”

 

“A chance to prove that you’re not insane?” Hermione offered.

 

Harry snorted.  “I shouldn’t have to prove that,” he said gently to Hermione.  “I’m sorry, Mione, but I’m not interested in your extracurricular study group.”

 

“Fine,” she said with a small huff of frustration.  “But if you change your mind…”

 

“I won’t,” Harry said peacefully.  Then he headed into class where Hermione would hopefully not bother him about study groups with students who thought him to be a madman.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Christmas came, and Harry tried to think of an excuse to stay at the school.  If he stayed at Hogwarts, he wouldn’t have to tell Hawke about Umbridge, nor would he have to hide his hand.  It was just one year, but Harry knew that Hawke wouldn’t buy that reasoning.  His cousin had already potentially been in so much trouble because of him, what with the adoption and the grief from Aveline; Harry couldn’t imagine what would happen if he found out about what Umbridge was doing.

 

No excuse presented itself, not even studying for his OWLs. He didn’t really care that much about them, and he was already going to do well enough on the exams that he couldn’t even pretend to need the extra time to study.  And every time he tried to raise the issue of staying at Hogwarts with Fenris, his guard just glared at him.  Fenris was no fool, and Harry knew that.  Fenris knew exactly what he was up to and was entirely unamused by the plan.

 

So, when the holiday began, Harry found himself back in Kirkwall, doing his best to keep his hand concealed from his cousin, his godfather, and everybody else who was waiting to welcome him home.  Apparently Hawke had arranged for something of a party in the manor, and the house was filled with all of their friends (and some that weren’t quite friends, like Aveline and Sebastian).

 

Harry pasted a smile on his face and tried to enjoy himself, but the whole time he was distracted by wondering what was going to happen if Hawke found out.  Surely his cousin couldn’t successfully take on Umbridge without consequences.  If Hawke found out…

 

“Show me.”  The demand came from his cousin, and Harry jumped, jarred from his thoughts.

 

“Show you what?” he asked, smiling at his cousin.  He couldn’t know.  Fenris had stayed by his side the entire time, so the elf couldn’t have possibly told Hawke already.  Besides, Fenris knew that he’d promised to tell Hawke himself, and surely the elf didn’t believe that he’d lied.  Even though he had, and Fenris knew him as well as he knew Fenris.

 

“Don’t play with me, Harry,” Hawke forced out through gritted teeth.  “Show me your hand.”

 

Harry’s eyes darted around nervously, only to land on a scrap of parchment in his cousin’s hand.  “Fenris told you,” he said dully, not even all that surprised.  “Why?” he asked, turning to his guard.

 

Fenris didn’t even have the decency to look guilty.  “Because you weren’t going to,” the elf said with a shrug.  “I am your guard, Harry, and I take your safety seriously.  Did you think that I was going to let you decide not to tell Hawke about what that… that thing was doing to you?”

 

“It was my decision,” Harry objected.

 

“I’m your legal guardian, kid, and trust me when I say that any decision that allows someone in power to take advantage of you is a bad one that I can’t let you make.”  Hawke held out his hand and snapped his fingers, impatient.  “Now quit stalling and show me.  I swear I won’t hunt the bitch down and torch her, but I will do something.”

 

Harry groaned and gave in with nothing resembling grace.  “Fine,” he muttered, and peeled off the glove that concealed the wound.  It was wrapped in gauze, which, after a glance at his cousin, he started to remove as well.  He went slowly and carefully because there was still some blood even after the poultices and potions, and the gauze sometimes stuck.  Finally, the words she’d made him carve into his own hand were bared for his cousin, and everyone else in the room, to see.

 

Aveline’s breath left her in a startled gasp, one that was echoed by Merrill.  Isabela, on the other hand, headed immediately for the door.  “Isabela!” Hawke snapped.

 

“You may have promised not to hunt her down, Hawke, but I’ll gut her like a fish.”  Isabela paused, then added, “As soon as someone gives me a name.”

 

“Nobody’s gutting anybody,” Hawke said quickly, his eyes still locked on Harry’s hand.

 

Harry wrestled with the urge to cover it, then wondered why he was wrestling with it at all.  He shoved his hand in his pocket and glared defiantly at his cousin.  “I don’t need you to handle this for me,” he said.  “I’ve dealt with things like this on my own since I was little.”

 

Hawke took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then held out his hand.  “Let’s go talk someplace a little quieter, shall we?”

 

Harry hesitated, then glanced around at his friends from Kirkwall and the righteous indignation that graced most of their faces.  “Yeah,” he said finally, and took his cousin’s hand.

 

“Sirius?” Hawke jerked his head in the direction of Harry’s bedroom, and Sirius followed the two of them up the steps.  Behind them, the party gradually resumed its previous volume, but the strained feeling in the room didn’t dissipate until the door closed behind them.

 

Fenris hadn’t followed them up, and Harry found that he was grateful for that since he wasn’t sure how he would react to his guard right about now.  He was angry and, actually, felt pretty betrayed.  He’d told Fenris that he was going to tell Hawke, and Fenris hadn’t believed him.  He supposed that he couldn’t be too angry that Fenris hadn’t fallen for it, given that he’d never intended to tell Hawke in the first place, but still.  He’d said that he would.

 

“Listen, Harry,” Hawke started, then let out a heavy sigh.  He scrubbed a hand over his face and settled on the bed next to Harry.  “Your godfather and I, you know that it’s pretty much our job to take care of you, right?”

 

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” Harry said immediately.  “I mean, in Kirkwall, sure, but at Hogwarts?  I’ve taken care of myself there for years.”

 

“Harry, you shouldn’t have had to,” Sirius said gently.  He knelt in front of Harry and carefully took Harry’s hands in his own.  “You’re still young, only fifteen.  You shouldn’t have to worry about fending off abusive teachers who torture you just for the heck of it.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “She’s not abusive,” he said immediately, then wondered why he’d said it.  Wasn’t forcing a student to hurt themselves the very definition of abuse?

 

“She is,” Hawke said, his voice soft and firm.  “And I know that you’re angry with Fenris for not respecting your wishes by telling us, but Harry, Fenris did the right thing.  I can’t protect you if I don’t have all the information, and you weren’t going to let me have that information, were you?”

 

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Harry said quickly.  “Umbridge is… she’s got a position in the Ministry.  She’s not like the fake Moody was; she’s not a Death Eater.  People will care if she gets hurt or killed because of something I did, and they already think I’m insane.”

 

“What’s this now?” Hawke asked sharply.

 

Harry flinched.  Fenris must not have told them that part of things.  “The Ministry has been saying that I’m crazy, that Voldemort didn’t really come back to life.  They’re just pretending like the whole thing never happened and that I’ve lost my mind.”

 

Hawke swore under his breath, then stood.  “Harry, listen to me, I know that you think that you have to handle all of this on your own, but you don’t.  I promise you, we’ll get as much of this sorted out as we can during your break, and what we can’t handle now we’ll handle over the summer, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Harry said, and watched as his cousin left the room, the door slamming shut behind him.  He waited for a second, then asked Sirius in a small voice, “You really think that Fenris did the right thing in telling him?  What if Hawke flies off the handle and tries to kill Umbridge?”

 

Sirius immediately swept Harry into a hug.  “He won’t,” his godfather said.  “He knows that’ll just get him in trouble, and maybe you by extension.  No, your cousin is smart enough to handle this properly, so just let him, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Harry said.  He hesitated, then added, “I can still be mad at Fenris, right?”

 

Sirius frowned at him.  “I don’t think you should,” Sirius said.  “Fenris did the right thing, even if you didn’t want him to.  He likes you a lot, you know, and believes it’s his duty to keep you safe.  Letting Umbridge continue to hurt you wasn’t keeping you safe.”

 

“I could handle it,” Harry protested, but his heart wasn’t really in it.  Deep inside, even if he didn’t want to admit it, he knew that Sirius was right, and that Fenris had done the right thing.

 

“You could,” Sirius agreed, squeezing him tightly for a second before releasing him, “But you shouldn’t have to.”  Then Sirius stood and dragged Harry to his feet.  “Come on, let’s go get some food before the pigs down there eat it all.”

 

Harry followed his godfather down the stairs and gathered a small plate of food, still a bit self-conscious about his hand.  Nobody mentioned it, though, and Fenris came to stand behind him after a small amount of hesitation, and Harry found himself relaxing into the atmosphere of being home once more.

 

He was still angry at Fenris, maybe unjustly so, but he knew that he would get over it with time.  

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Break was drawing to a close, and still nothing had happened that Harry knew of regarding Umbridge.  As far as he was aware, there was only a day left, but when he went to start packing, Hawke stopped him.

 

“You’re not going back,” his cousin said, his words coming out flat.

 

“Sorry?” Harry asked, his eyes widening.

 

“I wrote to your Headmaster, told him that if he didn’t do something about that woman torturing her students, that you weren’t going back to Hogwarts.  He either ignored my letter or read it and decided that I was bluffing, so I’m keeping you here.”

 

Harry sat back down at the dinner table and stared at his cousin.  “But you and Sirius were the ones who insisted that I go back this year in the first place.”

 

“Not to this!” Hawke snapped.  Then he closed his eyes and visibly reigned in his temper.  “I knew that the school could be… cavalier, I suppose, with your safety, but I never imagined that the Headmaster would look the other way while a bitch actively tortured his students.”

 

“I don’t know that he knows,” Harry tried.  Then he winced.  “But you told him, and if nothing else he should have investigated.”

 

“That’s right,” Hawke said.  “So you’re staying here, unless the old man shows up to discuss what’s going to happen to Umbridge.”

 

Harry considered fighting his cousin, then gave it up without much consideration at all.  He’d already been uncertain as to whether he wanted to continue with Hogwarts or not, so he didn’t see why it mattered whether he actually went back to take his OWLs.  He had things that he could do in Kirkwall, things that he would honestly much rather be doing.

 

Still, a week later, Harry found that he was almost bored.  It would seem that there just weren’t that many adventures to go on in the winter, either that or Hawke’s dogged persistence when it came to getting things done meant that Kirkwall was finally settling down.  Harry wasn’t entirely sure that he believed that Kirkwall would ever settle down, so it had to be the winter that was causing it.

 

Then came a tap on the door, and Bodahn announcing that “An Albus Dumbledore is here to see you, Messere.”

 

Harry perked up as the old man was led into the house, looking entirely out of place in his bright and colorful robes.  Hawke met him in the main room of the estate and gestured for the Headmaster to follow him into the office, and Harry didn’t even wait for an invitation before following them both.  Sirius, in his Padfoot form, appeared just as Harry went to close the door, slinking into the room.

 

Dumbledore looked down at the dog and smiled, the expression faint.  “Harry, my dear boy, we were worried when you didn’t come back to Hogwarts this week.”

 

“You know why he didn’t come back, old man,” Hawke said shortly.  “Is that woman still teaching there?”

 

“Now, Mr. Hawke, you must understand that I lack the authority to remove Madam Umbridge from her position at Hogwarts.  She’s simply too politically powerful for me to deal with at the moment.”  Dumbledore smiled, the expression not quite looking right to Harry.  It took him a second to realize that the smile wasn’t reaching the Headmaster’s eyes.

 

“Then Harry won’t be returning to Hogwarts,” Hawke said simply.  “If she’s gone in time for next year to start, Harry may return then.  But I won’t expose him to a woman who makes him carve words into his own skin.”

 

“Children exaggerate sometimes, Mr. Hawke,” Dumbledore said slowly.  “While Madam Umbridge is certainly liberal when it comes to assigning detentions, I would never accuse her of-”

 

“Show him your hand, Harry,” Hawke prompted, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

 

Harry hesitated, then held out his hand for the Headmaster to look at.  

 

Dumbledore’s breath left him in a small gasp when he saw the words carved onto Harry’s hand.

 

“Do you think my cousin did that to himself of his own volition?” Hawke asked, each word sharp and pointed.  “I’m sure she’s doing it to other students.  Since your Ministry thinks my cousin mad, no doubt they’ll do everything they can to discount the accusations if it’s just him bringing them.  But find her other victims, Dumbledore, and do everything in your power to deal with her.  Or Harry won’t return to Hogwarts.”

 

“I understand,” Dumbledore said, his voice shaken.  He looked like he’d aged a decade in those few moments, and Harry almost felt sorry for him.  Almost.  If he’d paid attention at all during the first few months of the school year, surely the old man would have realized what was going on right under his nose, but he’d been too busy off doing other things.  “If you’ll excuse me?” Dumbledore asked, sounding suddenly very tired.

 

“Thank you for visiting,” Hawke said, and showed him out.

 

A week after that, word was received that Umbridge had, in fact, been fired and that Headmaster Dumbledore would be teaching Defense for the remainder of the year.  Harry returned to Hogwarts to find the school a much more welcoming environment, and found himself almost ready for the chance to enjoy all of his classes as the year progressed.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“Why didn’t you tell us what she was doing to you?” Ron asked, sounding frustrated, a week after Harry’s return.

 

Harry didn’t look up from the homework he was doing.  Professor McGonagall had been kind enough to grant him a small extension due to extenuating circumstances, but he doubted that she would be so kind again if he failed to turn in the work this time.  He might not care all that much about his grades at Hogwarts, but he still wanted to do well.

 

“Harry!” Ron snapped.

 

Harry finally looked up.  “Why didn’t you tell me that your father died over break?” he asked, instead of answering the question.  He’d found out from the twins, who’d been depressed in a way that Harry had never seen before.  He’d felt a small flare of guilt when he’d heard, like maybe he could have done something if he’d been present, but Fenris had quickly disabused him of the notion.  It wasn’t his fault, and he couldn’t have done a thing to prevent it.

 

“I didn’t think you’d care,” Ron said finally.

 

“I would have cared,” Harry said.  “We’re not as close as we used to be, but I never meant to give you the impression that I wouldn’t have cared about your loss.  I’m sorry that you thought that I wouldn’t.  And… I know that you would have been angry with Umbridge, but there was nothing you could have done about what she was doing.”  And he didn’t think that Ron would have cared, because it didn’t affect Ron, not really.

 

His once-friend really was quite selfish, now that Harry considered it.

 

The silence stretched between them, awkward, and when Harry glanced up from his Transfigurations homework, Ron was gone.  Harry wanted to be hurt, but honestly, he didn’t care enough.

 

Ron didn’t matter anyway, because Fenris was more than enough of a friend at Hogwarts.  The elf stayed by his side constantly now, not leaving for detentions or anything else, not that Harry got any of those without Umbridge around.  Fenris got positively offended the one time Professor Snape had attempted to order the elf to leave, and Professor Snape hadn’t been foolish enough to ask again.

 

The glowing tattoos frightened pretty much any wizard who saw them, and Snape was no exception.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The rest of the year was quiet, relatively speaking, at least up until the day their OWLs were supposed to start.  It was on that day that Harry woke up to find that Fenris had disappeared.  His cot was unmade, so it was clear that he’d gone to sleep, but he was gone.

 

“Did anyone see Fenris go anywhere?” Harry asked of his still half-asleep roommates, frowning.

 

A chorus of sleepy negatives met his question, so Harry dug into his trunk and pulled out the Marauder’s Map.  He hadn’t had much use for it that year, not wanting to accidentally get caught by Umbridge and give her more fuel for her fire of hatred, so it was pretty deep within said trunk.  When he activated it, he searched the castle eagerly for his guard.

 

Fenris wasn’t there.

 

There might have been places on the grounds that the map wouldn’t find, but Harry couldn’t imagine how Fenris would have wound up in the Chamber of Secrets or another place like it.  He took a deep breath and staved off the panic that tried to well up within him.  He hadn’t been away from Fenris in almost two years and, quite frankly, he depended on the feelings of security he got from the elf’s presence.  He hadn’t realized how much he depended on it until Fenris wasn’t there anymore.

 

He had to ask his cousin if he knew where Fenris had gone.  “Going to the Owlery,” he said quickly, in case anyone cared.  He gathered his things, knowing that he wouldn’t have time to return to the tower before his first exam, and headed off.  Once there, he composed a quick letter to Hawke.

 

_ Hawke, _

 

_ Fenris is missing.  Did you send him somewhere? _

 

_ -Harry _

 

He gave the letter to Hedwig and whispered to her, “This is really important, Hedwig, so be as fast as you can, okay?”

 

His owl hooted softly to him and took off.

 

Harry watched her go, anxiously, but knew that as much as he wanted to he couldn’t just stay in the Owlery and wait for her to come back.  He had an exam to take, as little as he cared about it at the moment.  He couldn’t imagine that the Headmaster would allow him to take the tests late, either, given that he didn’t really approve of Fenris’ presence in the school to begin with.

 

Harry couldn’t have said how the test went, he took it in something of a daze.  He must have done well, given the impressed way that the proctor was mumbling to himself when he left. Either that or he’d completely bombed it and the proctor had never seen a student do so poorly.  Harry didn’t really care, though.

 

By the next morning, Hedwig had returned with a letter from Hawke.  Her response wasn’t normally so fast, so Harry knew that she’d really pushed herself.

 

_ Harry, _

 

_ I don’t know where Fenris could have gone.  We’re in Hogsmeade right now, and Aveline is going to start asking some questions of the locals.  If you find out anything, and I do mean anything, you let us know immediately. _

 

_ -Hawke _

 

Harry hoped that the ‘we’ in question didn’t include Sirius.  The last thing he wanted was to get his godfather captured and kissed because Fenris had gone missing.  But no.  Hawke was too smart to let that happen.  He wouldn’t have let Sirius come with them.

 

The rest of the week passed in a haze that ended only on the very last day of exams, when Harry got a letter from a large, black owl, who stared at him from evil red eyes.  The red eyes were rather reminiscent of Voldemort, actually, and Harry scowled as he took the letter.

 

His scowl was well-deserved, as the first thing that fell out of the folds of parchment was a photo of Fenris, slumped in a chair, unconscious, surrounded by silvery little balls that had strange fog inside of them.  Harry frowned and opened the letter.   _ You’ll find me in the Department of Mysteries _ , the letter read.   _ Come get me, or I’ll die _ .

 

Harry’s gaze darted to the head table where the professors were eating.  None of them, not a single one of them, was paying him any attention.  It was only a moment’s work to sneak out of the hall, and then out of the castle itself.

 

He made his way quickly to Hogsmeade, grateful for the fact that he always kept his daggers on him.  He didn’t need to delay and detour to his rooms or anything, he just had to get to Hawke.  He checked The Three Broomsticks, and sure enough, there was Hawke, along with Aveline, Isabela, Merrill, and Varric.  Hawke perked up when he saw him.

 

“Got news?” Hawke asked quickly.

 

Harry nodded.  “I got this letter just a few minutes ago,” he said, and handed it to Hawke.  “We have to go after him.”

 

“Definitely,” Hawke agreed immediately.  He glanced at Aveline and winced.  “But we’re most likely walking into a trap, Harry, and I can’t let you do that without Fenris guarding you.”

 

Harry’s jaw dropped.  “You’re leaving me behind,” he said, his eyes widening in betrayal.  “Hawke, that’s not fair!  I want to help save Fenris!  And I’m a good healer, you’ve said that yourself, so I  _ can _ help!”

 

“Listen to me!” Hawke snapped.  He shook his head, as though angry with himself, then knelt in front of Harry so that Harry was looking down at him.  “Listen to me,” he said, softly and more gently.  He took Harry by the shoulders and shook him gently.  “I won’t perform as well if I’m worrying about you.  The best way for you to help Fenris is to let us go and handle this on our own.  Can you do that for me?”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  He knew when he was being patronized.  “You don’t need to worry about me,” he pointed out, still scowling.

 

“Normally, I’d agree with that.  In Kirkwall, you’re more than capable of protecting yourself.  With Fenris there watching out for you, which you wouldn’t have this time.  So Harry, please let us handle this.”

 

Harry sagged in defeat.  He could have continued to argue, but every second that he wasted was another second that Fenris was in danger.  “I’m angry with you,” he said to Hawke.

 

“I respect that,” Hawke said immediately.  “Please respect my wishes in this.”

 

“You’ll bring him right back to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, pleadingly.  “And you promise you’ll save him?”  He felt like a child, helpless and frightened and he didn’t like that.

 

“I swear that we’ll do our best,” Hawke said.  “And you know me.  When I do my best everything works out in the end.”  He didn’t mention his dead siblings or his mother, and Harry wasn’t cruel enough to bring them up.

 

“Okay, go,” Harry said, hating that he’d said it.

 

They left him, and he started making his slow way back to Hogwarts, not particularly wanting to go and instead wanting nothing more than to follow Hawke and the others.  But Hawke wanted to know that he was safe and, even though it wasn’t something Harry wasn’t used to, the feeling was sort of nice.

 

He thought that maybe he could get used to it.  But only as long as Fenris came back safe.  If he didn’t… if he didn’t, Harry wasn’t sure that he would ever forgive Hawke.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The wait was awful, made even worse by the fact that he had no one to share it with.  He sat in the common room of the tower, surrounded by students who were unwinding from the exams, none of whom had noticed his brief absence or wondered at what it meant.  Ron and Hermione were off in a corner, talking softly, and Harry briefly entertained the notion of going over and talking to them.

 

He pushed it aside.  He wasn’t interested in rekindling their friendship.  At this point, they were just too different.

 

So instead he waited alone, and hoped that when the news came, it would be favorable.

 

It felt like hours later when Professor McGonagall entered the common room, a frown on her face.  “Your cousin is here,” she said shortly to Harry.  “He’s asking to speak with you, and the Headmaster has agreed to allow it.  If you would be so kind as to come with me, Mr. Potter?”

 

Harry wanted to be relieved, because either way the wait was over, but he couldn’t be.  Not until he knew Fenris’ fate one way or another.  The walk to the Headmaster’s office had never seemed so impossibly long, and Harry found that he both needed it to be over so that he could get the good news of Fenris’ wellbeing, and wanted it to continue forever so that he never needed to learn that Hawke had been too late.

 

Harry had his answer as soon as he reached the Headmaster’s office, as he was swept into Fenris’ arms in a rough embrace.  He hugged his friend tightly, clinging to him, tears forming in his eyes.  “You’re okay,” Harry breathed.

 

“More than,” Fenris said.  “I got the snake-faced bastard for you,” Fenris added as he pulled back.  “And his bitch of a lieutenant.”

 

“Don’t be so hasty to celebrate,” Dumbledore interjected.  He sounded tired and frustrated, and Harry wondered how long the conversation had gone on before he’d arrived for the Headmaster’s tone to reach that level of irritation.  “I told you once and I’ll say it again, Voldemort has died before and he’s come back before.  The chances of him actually being dead this time are slim.”

 

“But he’s dead for now, meaning that he can’t harass my cousin.”  Hawke beamed at the Headmaster, his sunny smile entirely genuine.  “And I got to help with that.  I can’t tell you how pleased this makes me, Albus.”

 

The Headmaster’s returning smile was thin.  “I’m so pleased that you’re pleased,” he said, and Harry could tell that the old man was lying through his teeth.  “The good news is that next year should be much safer for Harry.”

 

Hawke shrugged.  “If he decides to come back,” he said.  “His…  my lover and I talked him into trying one more time last summer, but he might not be willing to give the school another shot after the way this year started.”

 

“I’m sure that Harry wants to stay at the school that his parents attended for as long as he can,” the Headmaster said immediately.  “Besides, wouldn’t it be better for Harry to have as many options open to him as possible, rather than being shoehorned into a career he’s ill suited for because he didn’t get an education?”

 

Hawke tipped his head to the Headmaster in an acknowledgement of the point.  Then he changed the subject, saying, “So, since Harry’s exams are over, and since I’m in town right now, would you happen to mind if I took him home one night early?  We’ve got a celebration to get to, seeing as how we managed to save Fenris like a damsel in distress.”

 

Fenris let out a low growl.  “Watch yourself, Hawke.”

 

The Headmaster looked like he wanted to object to Hawke’s proposal, but instead sighed and shook his head.  “That should be fine,” he said tiredly, like he just wanted the conversation to be over.

 

“Thanks, Headmaster,” Harry said, beaming at Dumbledore.  The man stared back at him like he didn’t know Harry anymore, but Harry didn’t mind.  “I’ll go get my things and meet you by the entrance?”

 

Hawke nodded.  “Take Fenris with you!” he called as Harry slipped out of the Headmaster’s office.  As the door closed, he heard Hawke saying something to the Headmaster that Harry couldn’t quite make out.

 

“Was it awful?” he asked Fenris as they started back towards Gryffindor Tower.

 

“No,” Fenris said shortly.  “I had worse under Danarius.”

 

Harry glanced at Fenris and saw an almost peaceful expression on the elf’s face, and something in him eased.  Fenris wouldn’t lie to him, not about something like that.  “I’m glad,” he said simply.

 

His things were easy to gather, and again, nobody commented when he left the Tower with his trunk behind him and Fenris, who hadn’t been seen in a week, hovering over him.  Harry supposed he could have felt lonely, but honestly, it didn’t bother him.  Most of the students had spent most of the year thinking he was crazy anyway, so what did their opinion matter?

  
He was going home a day early, and that was something to be celebrated.


	8. Chapter Seven: The Third Summer

Harry woke up the first morning of his third summer in Kirkwall with a plan for his summer that, for once, didn’t involve going on mad adventures where he was almost killed.  There was always some appeal in doing so, of course, but…

 

But with each year that passed, Hogwarts grew more dangerous.  In spite of Hawke’s optimism that the Dark Lord’s death meant that Harry would be safe next year, Harry was certain that wasn’t going to be the case.  Which meant that he had another year of stress and fear to look forward to, if he decided to go back to Hogwarts at all.  And if he didn’t…

 

If he didn’t, then he needed to figure out what he wanted to do with himself.  The longer Harry went out on adventures with his cousin, the more certain he became that he didn’t actually want to be an adventurer for the rest of his life.

 

He’d first thought of it last summer, while he’d been studying his healing magic, and now that another year had gone by, he still thought that his plan was a viable one.  The challenge, Harry was certain, would be to convince Hawke that his plan was a good one.

 

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what the conversation that definitely had the potential to become a battle, and headed down for breakfast.

 

Fenris was already there, Harry noticed with a small, irritating flutter in his chest that he shoved to the side.  It hadn’t come up all last year, so why was his ridiculous little crush… Harry tried to ignore it.  It wasn’t important at the moment, and besides, he was still very young for Fenris.  Even if he was going to be sixteen soon.

 

Hawke and Sirius were bickering over something, though they stopped the second that Harry came downstairs.  Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his godfather and his cousin.  “What?” he asked warily.

 

“Nothing,” Sirius said quickly.  “We were just having a difference of opinion.”

 

“About?”  Harry gave them both his best approximation of an unamused look.  It didn’t appear to phase them at all.

 

Since neither adult answered, so Harry turned to Fenris, who shrugged and said, “They aren’t sure how to tell you that it’s not really safe to go wandering Kirkwall this summer.”

 

“Fenris!” Hawke snapped.  “I was looking for a nicer way to say that!”

 

Fenris just shrugged again.  “There’s not a nice way to say it.”

 

“There is a nice-”  Hawke cut off and took a deep breath.  “Harry, it’s not that Siri and I don’t think that you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, especially with Fenris watching over you.  You’ve done a fantastic job these past few years, and we’re so very proud of you.  It’s just that tensions between the mages and the templars are ridiculously high, and we’re worried that you’ll get caught in the crossfire.”

 

Harry slid into his seat and stared at his cousin.  “So, what you’re saying is that you want me to hang out here in the manor all summer long, doing absolutely nothing at all and being bored out of my mind?”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Hawke, that’s not going to work for me.”

 

Hawke winced.  “I can see how you might be frustrated by the thought of being bored for most of the summer, Harry, but don’t you want to be able to take a breather from being in almost constant danger?”  Hawke smiled at Harry, the expression achingly hopeful.

 

“I was thinking about that, actually,” Harry said slowly.  “I don’t particularly want to go adventuring this summer.  But I also don’t want to sit around and do nothing, which is what it seems like you’re asking me to do.  So… perhaps a compromise?”

 

Hawke’s eyes narrowed, and Harry was reminded that his cousin was much more well-versed in spotting things like verbal traps than Harry was at springing them.  “What sort of compromise?” Hawke asked.

 

“I was thinking that I could put my healing skills to good use this summer,” Harry said.  When Hawke opened his mouth to object, Harry raised a hand to stop him.  “I know that it would be dangerous, and it would probably make the Templars pretty angry once they knew what I was doing, but there are ways of making it safer.  Fenris could stay with me while I’m working, and I could work out of Anders’ old clinic.  You know, the one that’s right by the entrance to our basement?  If nothing else, you know that I could flee to there if I were in some kind of danger.”

 

Hawke’s expression went briefly pained at the mention of Anders’ name, then he took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly.  “I don’t like it,” he said quietly.  “It’s dangerous, probably even less safe than just travelling with me and the others.”

 

Harry bit his lip.  “It’s what I want to do,” he said into the silence.  “You trained me in the healing arts to do some good, right?”

 

“Some good for us, not for-”  Hawke cut off and laughed, the sound strained.  “Not for the people of Darktown.  Who probably could really use a healer, since Anders died.  That was a horribly selfish thing I just thought, wasn’t it?”

 

“Nobody can blame you for being a little selfish,” Sirius said quickly, and when Harry glanced at him, he found that his godfather was staring at his cousin with something of an adoring expression on his face.  The grateful look that Hawke sent back to him was equally sweet.

 

A very juvenile part of Harry wanted to wrinkle his nose and protest.  There were some things that a teenager was never meant to see, and his family being sappy with each other definitely fell into that category.

 

“I can keep him safe, Hawke,” Fenris said softly.  “I won’t lie and say I’m entirely comfortable being around the amount of magic that this endeavor would require, but I can manage.  And I can keep him from coming to any harm, you know that.”

 

“And this is something you want to do with yourself for the entire summer?  Run a clinic?  It’s not a very glamorous job,” Hawke said.  He sounded like he was actually considering it, which was honestly more than Harry had thought he’d get on his first try.

 

“I’ve had a glamorous job,” Harry pointed out.  “I’m a hero back in England, and it’s awful.  I want to actually help people.  Not that helping by killing criminals and taking their gold isn’t fun, because it can be, but I want to help people in a way that doesn’t require killing.”

 

Hawke scrubbed at his face and turned to Sirius.  “He’s your godson.  Any thoughts?”

 

Sirius just shrugged.  “When I was his age, I was actively plotting the attempted murder of one of my classmates because I didn’t like how greasy he was.  That was a terrible thing to do in my youth.  This, though?  This is a good thing, and I won’t be the one to stop him.”

 

Harry relaxed.  “Thanks, Sirius,” he said genuinely.  

 

Hawke sighed.  “That wasn’t helpful at all,” he said plaintively.  He looked at Fenris, then at Harry, then finally picked up his fork and took a bite of food.  Once he’d swallowed, he said, “Okay, fine.  You want to do this for the summer, I’ll allow it.  With conditions.  That you will not violate.”

 

Harry sat up straighter.  “Tell me,” he said, fully prepared to object if they turned out to be unreasonable.

 

“You will not stay at the clinic after dark without a guard other than just Fenris,” Hawke said immediately.  “And you will immediately return to the house at the first sign of trouble, including even a whisper of Templars heading your way.”

 

Harry deflated.  Those were actually perfectly reasonable.  “I can do that,” he said.

 

“Okay then.”  Hawke took a deep breath.  “Then eat your breakfast, and go get started if you want to.”

 

Harry barely tasted his breakfast, he ate it so quickly.  Then he went down into the basement, followed by Fenris, and exited into Darktown.  As always, the smell of rot and muck and unwashed flesh hit him like a wall, and he took a few seconds to breathe through it.  Then he headed to the clinic, whose doors had been shut ever since Anders had died two years ago.

 

The door creaked ominously when Harry opened it with some help from Fenris, and the inside of the clinic was dusty and had a strange smell to it.  Harry spent a few minutes sorting through the potions and poultices Anders had left behind, through the bandages and pain relievers, and was pleased to find all of it mostly intact.  Some of the poultices had to be thrown away, but that wasn’t really a surprise given the length of time it had been since they’d been used.  He’d have to make more, but that wasn’t hard.  He more than remembered Anders’ lessons on the subject.

 

He cleaned the clinic up as best as he could, a process that took him until after lunch, which Fenris forced him to take a break for.  Then, once it looked as sanitary as it could, given the medieval conditions in Kirkwall, Harry took a deep breath and lit the lantern outside.

 

The clinic was back in business.  He just hoped that he could use it to do some good.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Business at the clinic picked up quickly as word of mouth spread that another healer had taken up the last one’s task.  Hawke kept Harry supplied with everything he needed, bandages and potions ingredients and those sorts of things, and Harry found that he genuinely enjoyed helping people overcome their injuries and illnesses.  Even when those people were less than grateful for the assistance, as was the case when a Carta member with a knife in his eye came by for help.

 

Fenris had to help with that one, holding him down while Harry worked on the injury.  He helped with many of the patients that needed to be kept still and, occasionally, could be bothered to help Harry remove something that didn’t belong, such as a large splinter or, in one case, the shaft of an arrow that had gotten stuck when the head of the arrow had broken off.  But for the most part, Fenris settled at the door to the clinic and read whatever book he had on hand that day.  And threw out those who came seeking painkillers they didn’t need because they liked the woozy feeling the painkillers provided.

 

All in all, Harry was pleased with the way things were going.  And Fenris was too, given the way his guard was smiling that evening as they closed up the clinic, just narrowly avoiding getting in trouble for breaking Hawke’s rule about staying open at night by virtue of the fact that the sun had only just technically touched the horizon.  “Careful,” Harry said teasingly.  “Someone might think you actually like it down here.”

 

Fenris’ cheeks pinked ever so slightly and Harry’s heart skipped a beat before he ruthlessly forced himself to ignore it.  “I don’t mind it down here,” Fenris said finally.  “I thought that I would, given that I am still… uncomfortable around magic, but you… have never shown any indication that you would consider making a deal with a demon.”

 

From Fenris, that was high praise.  Harry couldn’t stop the beaming smile that he knew was spreading over his face.  “Thank you,” he said sincerely as he finished securing the lock on the outside door of the clinic.

 

Fenris opened his mouth to respond, but Harry never heard what that answer would have been as his guard went tense, his tattoos lit, and he reached for his weapon.  That was the last thing Harry saw before he was struck over the head by something blunt and heavy, and the world went black around him.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry woke up, bleary and confused.  He could hear shouting, but it was vague and didn’t seem to make much sense.  Then he heard even more shouting, and this still was vague, but definitely made more sense.  It was Hawke’s angry voice, and he was yelling… something about… cooperation?

 

“You want me to work with you, and these are the tactics you use?” His cousin was shouting.  “Are you all idiots?  Why would I work with a group who’s willing to kidnap my cousin?  Andraste’s tits, he’s an innocent child!”

 

“I told you he’d never work with us!” a woman shouted.  “Kill the hostage!”

 

Harry’s eyes blinked open.  He found himself lying on… sand.  The Wounded Coast?  What the hell?  He was almost certain that he’d been in Darktown when… when…  He heard footsteps approaching him, somehow in the din of the battle that had broken out, and it clicked.

 

He was the hostage.

 

“Oh, yeah, because I’m just gonna lie here and get killed,” he muttered, and rolled out of the way of the blade that landed where his head had been only seconds before.

 

Harry was up and on his feet in less than a second, his knife coming out to slice through the mage who’d attempted to kill him with her staff.  He managed to get her only because she’d frozen with surprise when he’d moved, like she hadn’t expected it.  Then, because of course Harry had all the luck of someone with no luck at all, the woman turned out to be an abomination, of the prideful variety.

 

Harry swore and danced back, falling back behind the line of combatants made up by Hawke, Aveline, and Sebastian.  He let his cousin and his two least favorite fighters handle the monsters, and he instead focused on keeping all three of them on their feet.  When the fight was over, the beach was covered in corpses of both mages and Templars.

 

“What the hell was that?” Harry asked.  “Why did they kidnap me?”

 

“They were trying to force your cousin to work with them,” Aveline said, frowning.  “Hawke, did you really have to kill-”

 

“Every last one of them?”  Hawke’s lips were curled back into a snarl.  “Yes, Aveline, yes I did.  And you should know better than to ask me that.”

 

“Surely there was some possibility of their finding redemption-”

 

“They kidnapped my cousin, Sebastian,” Hawke said, his teeth gritted.  “You cannot possibly think that I was going to let a single one of them walk away after that.”

 

“Fenris!” Harry interjected, his eyes going wide as he remembered what had happened..  “Hawke, Fenris was-”

 

“He’s fine,” Hawke said quickly.  “He has a bump on the head, a pretty bad one, that you should probably take care of when you get back to the manor.  But he’s fine.  Angry at himself, probably pretty desperate to see that you’re okay, but fine.”

 

Harry sagged with relief.  “Okay then,” he breathed, his heart rate slowing.  “That…”  He scowled at the bodies that littered the beach.  “Hawke, these guys got off too easily,” he complained.

 

Aveline shot Harry a strange look.  “What more could you have wanted for them, aside from death?” she asked, her eyebrows rising.

 

Harry shrugged.  “Eternal torment, given that Hawke’s probably now rethinking letting me run the clinic.”

 

“So that is you running the clinic,” Aveline said, with something like satisfaction in her voice.  “Your cousin’s been putting me off whenever I asked him about it for these past few weeks.”  There was a moment of silence, wherein Harry was certain that Aveline was about to say something obnoxious, but instead all she said was, “You’re doing good work down there.”

 

Harry blinked at the Captain of the Guard.  “Aren’t you supposed to discourage illegal behavior?” he asked uncertainly.

 

She shrugged.  “With this group, I’ll take non-disruptive, constructive illegal behavior over the sorts of things Hawke normally gets up to.”

 

“I’m proud of you, Aveline,” Harry said with a grin, and, leaving the Guard Captain sputtering behind him, darted ahead to catch up with Hawke.  It was a long walk back to Kirkwall, and he wanted to get back to Fenris as soon as possible.  

 

Just to make sure he was really okay, of course.  Not for any other reason.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The walk back to Kirkwall seemed to take forever, for all that Harry knew that it didn’t.  Really, it couldn’t be more than a few hours long.  But it always took longer when he was more anxious to get back, a fact that he’d forgotten since he hadn’t been out of the city since the previous summer.

 

He ditched Hawke as soon as he was in Hightown, since his cousin always, always got bombarded by nobles with things that they absolutely  _ had _ to say to the Champion, and headed straight for the manor.  He darted inside, taking care to close the door carefully behind him, said a quick hello to Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana, and headed upstairs.

 

Fenris, he knew, would be in his brother’s bed.  It was pretty much the safest place to leave him, and was where Harry always found wounded members of the party since he’d stopped going on adventures.  Not that there were too many of them, given that things were… oddly quiet this summer.  Tense, liable to explode at any given moment, but quiet.

 

Sure enough, Fenris was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, scowling viciously at the two dogs cavorting at his feet.  The back of his normally-white hair was stained with blood.

 

“Off the bed,” Harry snapped to Sirius and Blade, who both gave him their own particularly potent versions of puppy dog eyes.  Harry wasn’t swayed.  He stood there, arms crossed, one foot tapping, until the two dogs slunk off the bed.  Blade slunk out of the room, while Sirius transformed.

 

“Good to have you back, pup,” Sirius said with an irrepressibly happy grin.

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Good to be back.  Being kidnapped is never fun, you know?  And being kidnapped to use as a hostage is even less fun, if you can believe it.”

 

“Are you okay?” Fenris asked, his voice low and… concerned.  There might have been a note of something else in there, like guilt, but part of Harry’s heart soared at the genuine concern he could hear in his guard’s voice.

 

Of course it didn’t mean anything; Harry knew that.  Still.  It was nice to hear.  “I’m fine,” he told Fenris cheerfully.  “I didn’t even know I’d been kidnapped until I woke up to hear someone yelling about killing the hostage.”

 

Harry sat himself on the bed next to Fenris and said, before Fenris could even respond to what he’d just said, “Now lean forward for me.  I want to have a look at your head.”

 

“I’m fine,” Fenris said immediately.  He didn’t move.

 

“Fenris,” Harry started.

 

“Your cousin was worrying over nothing.  There’s no reason for you to look at my head,” Fenris said shortly.

 

Harry hesitated.  Was Fenris… frightened?  And… maybe… embarrassed.  “Sirius, go away,” he said to his godfather, who made a frustrated face but left the room, closing the door behind him.  “You know that I wouldn’t cast magic on you without your permission,” he said to the warrior.

 

“I know that,” Fenris snapped.  “I just… Harry, I promise you, I’m fine.”

 

“And I’d like to make sure of that myself, if you don’t mind.”  Harry scowled at Fenris, who glared right back at him.  “Fenris, please.”

 

“How can you even worry about me?”  Fenris shook his head, then winced at the motion, but still made no move to let Harry take a look at his head.  “I failed you.”

 

“You didn’t fail me,” Harry said.  “I’m fine.  Someone got the drop on us.  It happens to everyone, no matter how good they are at fighting.”  Harry smiled and tried to look reassuring.  “Besides, it won’t happen again.  I’m pretty sure that Hawke successfully slaughtered anyone who might be entertaining similar notions.”

 

“I should have been there, helping him.”  Fenris shook his head again, then winced once more and brought his hand up to touch the back of his head.

 

Harry cringed.  “Please, can I just… can I just take a look, Fenris?”

 

“Yes, fine,” Fenris growled.  He leaned forward slightly and didn’t object when Harry touched the back of his head with gentle fingers.

 

Harry studied the wound.  It didn’t seem to be too bad.  It had bled a lot, but then, head wounds always did.  There wasn’t really much of a cut, and there wasn’t too much of a bump there, either.  It would be sore for a few days, but other than that, Fenris should be fine.  He might’ve even managed to escape without a concussion, though Harry wasn’t willing to bet money on that.

 

In fact…  “Okay, so, it’s probably not that bad and you’ll probably heal fine on your own.  But, Fenris, can I?”

 

Fenris looked up at him, and Harry was startled by how very close together their faces were in that moment.  Fenris’ breath left him in a small huff, his eyes going ever so slightly wide.  He nodded, the motion shallow enough that Harry thought maybe he’d just imagined it.

 

But when Harry cast his healing magic, Fenris didn’t even flinch.  He did close his eyes, though, and leaned ever so slightly closer as his body sagged a bit.  And Harry…  Harry was sort of powerless to resist the closeness.  He couldn’t help himself.  He leaned forward as well and shyly, hesitantly, touched his lips to Fenris’.

 

Fenris’ eyes flew open and the two stared at each other in silence for a long minute, their lips still touching.  Then the door banged open and they jerked apart as though scalding water had been poured between them.

 

Hawke seemed oblivious to what he’d just walked in on.  “Harry get you all fixed up, Fenris?” he asked.  Without waiting for an answer, he barrelled on with, “Of course he did!  Drinks at the Hanged Man, celebrating the untimely demise of several of our enemies and the very timely rescue of my darling little cousin!”

 

Hawke swept out of the room as fast as he’d entered, leaving Harry and Fenris still staring at one another.

 

“I need to go,” Fenris said quickly.  He slid out of bed and, without waiting for any kind of response, fled the room.  Harry could hear Hawke’s startled shout from downstairs, and, by the time he’d made it downstairs, found his cousin staring after Fenris with a confused expression on his face.

 

“What was that about?” Hawke asked Harry, still staring in the direction of the entrance.

 

“I don’t know,” Harry said quickly.  “Maybe he just didn’t want to drink?”  But suddenly, for the first time since his disastrous first time, Harry very much wanted to do so.

 

Hawke shot him a clearly disbelieving look, but thankfully, his cousin didn’t call him on his lie.  Instead, Hawke slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders.  “Well, more for us, then!  Siri, you coming?”

 

“A celebration of my godson’s safe return?  Wouldn’t miss it,” Sirius said cheerfully.  “And also, I think I’m gonna try and win back a few of the coins Isabela got off me last time.”

 

“That’s a bad idea, Sirius,” Harry said, and managed to muster up a small smile.  Oh, yes, drinking sounded like a very good idea.  Suddenly, Harry couldn’t wait to get to the Hanged Man.

 

Oblivion sounded like the best thing in the world right now.  It would likely distract him from the way he thought his heart was breaking.  He’d known that he was probably too young for Fenris, had known that his childish crush wasn’t going to go anywhere, but he’d thought that Fenris might at least have something kind to say in rejection.

 

He hadn’t expected him to just… just run away like that.

 

Harry blinked back tears that wanted to spring to his eyes and instead focused on grinning.  He could see why Hawke was always smiling.  It was a great way of distracting himself.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry woke up the next morning with absolutely no recollection of the night before.  His head was pounding and his vision swam when he sat up too quickly.  His stomach lurched as well, but Harry managed to get that calmed down before he threw up.  It was a pretty close call.  He fell back to the bed with a groan.

 

What the hell had he done last night?  Just how much had he let himself drink?

 

Harry closed his eyes and covered his head with his arm and just let himself lay still, hoping that the pounding would fade.  It didn’t.  It got worse, in fact, particularly when he heard the creak of his bedroom door opening.

 

“Go away,” he groaned to whoever it was.  “I just want to die in peace.”

 

“I think I’ve already established that I’d rather you not die,” Hawke said.  Unlike the first time he’d gotten himself totally plastered, his cousin spoke softly, almost gently to him.  “Sit up, try to drink a bit of water.  It should help you out.”

 

Harry didn’t shake his head, but only because he didn’t want to set off the nausea again.  “I don’t think I can move,” he confessed to Hawke.  “The last time I tried, I thought I would throw up.”

 

“Yeah, I bet you’ve got a hell of a hangover,” Hawke agreed.  He still didn’t raise his voice.  “But if you get some water in you, you might be able to make it better with some curative magic.”  

 

Harry let his arm fall away.  “You think so?” he asked, staring at his cousin doubtfully.  He wouldn’t put it past the man to tell him that just to get him to drink some water.

 

Hawke shrugged.  “Anders cured me of at least one of my hangovers, so I know it can be done.  He always made me drink water beforehand, but maybe that was just his way of making me suffer a bit longer.  Either way, water, then curative magic.”

 

Harry thought it over, then sat up as slowly as he could.  His stomach lurched and his head spun, but everything stayed down.  He took the water and took a small, careful sip.  When it didn’t make him any queasier, he took another sip.  Once he’d finished off the entire cup that Hawke had brought, he closed his eyes and focused on the magic inside of him.  It welled within him, and when it receded, his head felt ten times better.

 

He sagged with a groan.  “Thank the Maker,” he muttered.  “You’re a lifesaver, Hawke.”

 

“I know,” his cousin said smugly.  Then he sobered once more.  “Harry, Sirius and I, we’re a little worried about you.”

 

Harry’s heart thumped in his chest.  “Why?” he asked, trying his hardest not to seem nervous.  Did they know?  Oh, Maker, did they know?  Had Fenris told them?  What if they were angry about it?  He was pretty sure that Hawke wouldn’t mind if he was gay, given the whole Anders thing, but what about Sirius?  Was there some kind of pureblood rule against it that his godfather had never bothered to tell him?

 

Okay, so maybe Hawke and Sirius were together, but… but…  Harry knew that he wasn’t being rational that there couldn’t possibly be a rule that Sirius cared about, if one even existed, but now that he’d had the thought he couldn’t let it go.

 

“You were drinking with some pretty serious intent last night,” Hawke said.  He settled on the bed next to Harry, his face oddly serious.  “Was there… did something happen yesterday?  Something that maybe you felt like you needed to forget?”

 

Harry flinched.  Oh, they knew.  They knew and they were mad about it and they were trying to bring it up in the nicest way possible.  “I… no?” he tried, his voice small.

 

“Pup, you know that’s not going to work,” Sirius said suddenly.

 

Harry let out a startled yelp and clutched at his heart, glaring at his godfather, who had appeared at the foot of the bed.  Apparently he’d been hiding there as Padfoot.  “That’s not nice, Sirius,” he complained.  “I didn’t know that you were in here!”

 

“Sorry for startling you.”  Sirius walked around and settled on the other side of Harry, his expression just as oddly serious as Hawke’s.  “But seriously, Harry, whatever happened, you know that you can talk to us, right?”

 

“But what if you’re angry?” Harry asked.  He looked down at his hands so that he didn’t have to look at either Hawke or Sirius.  What if… what if Sirius was mad at him for liking another boy?  It didn’t seem to be a big deal in Thedas, but Outrealm…  Harry knew that the Dursleys never would have let him hear the end of it if they’d known about it.  And he was the last of the Potter line.  What if that was a thing, and he was supposed to carry on the line and have babies or something?

 

“Harry, sweetheart, there’s not a single thing that you could tell us that would make us angry with you,” Sirius said quickly.

 

Harry shivered as he was pulled into his godfather’s arms.  “Promise?” he asked.

 

“Harry, please.  You can tell us anything that might have happened.  We won’t be angry with you at all.  Maybe with other people, but not with you.”  Hawke’s hand landed in Harry’s hair, gently smoothing it.

 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen!” Harry said, the words bursting from him.  He had to talk to someone about it, and even though he was so afraid that Sirius would be mad at him.

 

“Nobody thought that you did, Harry,” Sirius said quickly.  “We know that you didn’t want what happened.”

 

“But I did!” Harry wailed.  He felt tears springing to his eyes and buried his head in his godfather’s soft shirt.  “I did want what happened, and now Fenris is mad at me!”

 

“F-Fenris?” Hawke stammered.  There was a strange note of question in his voice, like he couldn’t believe what he was asking.  “Fenris is mad about… is that why that little fucker ran out of here last night?  I’ll kill him!”

 

“You can’t kill him!” Harry protested.  He pulled away from Sirius to stare at Hawke, his eyes widened in horror.  “It’s not his fault!  I just… I should have expected that reaction, and I startled him, that’s all!”

 

“You startled…”  Hawke stopped and stared at Harry, an expression of realization dawning on him.  “Harry, cousin-mine, what are we talking about?”

 

“The… the fact that I kissed Fenris and he ran away from me?” Harry guessed.

 

Hawke sagged, and Harry felt Sirius sag behind him as well.  “You kissed Fenris,” his godfather said flatly, the words not a question.  “And he ran away from you.”

 

“Yes?”  Harry looked back at his godfather, then back to Hawke.  Both were staring at him with expressions that could only be described as murderous.  “You… you’re mad at me.  For liking boys?”  He curled in on himself ever so slightly and hoped that he was wrong.

 

“What?  No!”  Hawke leaned forward and swatted him on the back of the head.  “We’re not mad at you for that!  At least, I’m not angry.  It would be awfully hypocritical of both of us, honestly.  Sirius?  Are you angry?”

 

“Why would I be angry about that?” Sirius asked blankly.  “I’m just frustrated because we thought that something horrible had happened during your kidnapping and it turns out to be… well, nothing.”   
  


“It’s not nothing!” Harry snapped, and then Sirius’ words caught up with him.  He couldn’t help letting out a small snort of laughter.  “You thought… you thought that, what, that I’d been assaulted or something?”

 

“It isn’t funny,” Sirius muttered.  He flopped onto the bed, like he couldn’t stay sitting up with all of the tension drained from him.  “I honestly thought that someone had hurt you!”

 

“My heart is hurt, does that count?”  Suddenly, nothing seemed as bad as it could be.  Yes, it totally sucked that Fenris was probably never going to talk to him again, and Harry was still going to have to deal with that, but at least nothing terrible had happened to him during his kidnapping yesterday.

 

“That does count, and I’m definitely willing to talk with you about that,” Hawke said.  “I think that Sirius and I are just both incredibly relieved that it wasn’t anything more serious than a little bit of heartache.”

 

“But it’s a lot of heartache,” Harry protested.

 

“But heartache doesn’t equal rape,” Sirius sang back.  “So Hawke and I will celebrate at least a little bit while you tell us of your woes.”

 

“I don’t know if I can tell you about my heartache if you’re both going to be celebrating while I’m trying to do so,” Harry complained.

 

“Sure you can.”  Hawke patted him on the shoulder.  “So, I hear you kissed Fenris? How’d that work out for you?”

 

“He ran away.”  Harry glared at his cousin.  “How do you think it worked out for me?”

 

“So, not well, then?” Sirius hazarded.  He let out a small snort of laughter.  “Sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t help it.  I know that you’re devastated; of course you are.  I just…”  He let out another giggle.

 

“I hate you both,” Harry muttered.  He shook his head.

 

“Okay, that’s fair, but did he say anything before running?” Hawke asked.

 

Harry shook his head again.  “Just that he had to go.  He might not have run, you know, if you hadn’t just burst into the room to ask if we wanted to go to The Hanged Man.”

 

“Wait, that was when you kissed him?”  Hawke laughed quietly.  “I thought you two looked like you were sitting awfully close!  I’m sorry for interrupting.”

 

“I’m not sorry you interrupted,” Sirius said.  “Harry’s only just turning sixteen.  He’s awfully young to be getting into a relationship with someone like Fenris.”

 

“That’s… a fair point,” Hawke acknowledged.  “You know that Fenris is an escaped slave, Harry.  Have you considered what it might be like, dealing with all of his issues?  You know about the ones with magic; are you prepared for the kind of intimacy issues you might also have to deal with?”

 

Harry hesitated.  “I hadn’t thought about it,” he said honestly.  “Most of last year I pretty much managed to push my crush to the back of my mind.  I had Umbridge to worry about, so I couldn’t focus on it.  And the year before, well…”  Harry shrugged.  “I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that.  How can I ever know without having tried it?  But… if he wants me, I think I’d like to find out.”

 

“That’s probably as ready as you can ever be,” Hawke said.  He ruffled Harry’s hair affectionately.  “You hear that, Sirius?  Our baby boy is growing up!”

 

“I’m not ready for that at all,” Sirius complained.  He sat up, lightning fast, and shoved at Harry.  “Go back to being a child for me, would you?”

 

“I’d rather not, but thanks for the offer,” Harry said with a small smile.  “But… seriously, what if he’s mad at me?  What if he never wants to see me again?”

 

“Then it’s best to find out right away.  Like ripping off a bandage, you just want to get it over with.  You don’t want to wait and find out later after you’ve built all of your hopes up,” Hawke said.  He stood up and stretched, then held out a hand to Harry.  “So let’s get you presentable, or as presentable as you ever are, anyway, and take you over and find out what Fenris is thinking.”

 

“Right now?” Harry squeaked.  He didn’t take his cousin’s hand and, instead, seriously contemplated hiding under the bed until Hawke let go of the idea.  “I think the clinic needs to be run today.”

 

“I think you’re out of your mind if you think that I’m letting you go there without Fenris after what just happened literally yesterday,” Hawke said cheerfully.  “So if you ever want to run your clinic again, you’ll do the smart thing and get yourself out of bed, into the bath, and then we’ll take you to go see Fenris.”

 

“I’ve never been accused of being terribly smart,” Harry said.  He still made no move to get out of bed.

 

“Yes, but you’ve never been accused of being an idiot, either,” Sirius said cheerfully.  “Which means I don’t know why you think you can convince Hawke to not do this.  If you don’t go with him, after all, he could always go and get Fenris and make him come to you.  And if Fenris is already angry with you, imagine how infuriated he’ll be if he’s forced to come here because you wouldn’t come to him.”

 

Harry cringed at the very idea.  “Right,” he said slowly.  “You’re right.  You’re both always right.”  He slid out of bed, still somewhat reluctantly, and stared mournfully at Hawke.  “Time to make myself presentable, I guess.”

 

He didn’t want to go talk to Fenris, of course.  He wanted to stay in his room and hide, at least for a day.  But he knew that Hawke and Sirius were both right, and this really was for the best.

 

That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Harry said, standing outside of Fenris’ decrepit manor. He’d been in there dozens of times, if not hundreds, and suddenly it seemed as though going in there was the most frightening thing he’d ever done in his life.

 

“Yeah, that’s not really an option,” Hawke said cheerfully.  He opened the door to the manor and gestured for Harry to go in.  When Harry didn’t move, Hawke sighed.  “Okay, you don’t have to, but consider this: you’re not going back to the clinic without a bodyguard, and I’m not hiring a different one for you.”

 

“Then I guess I’ll get a lot of studying for Hogwarts done,” Harry said flatly.  He still didn’t move.

 

“Hogwarts?”  Hawke laughed.  “You mean that place where you almost die as frequently as you do here?  I think not.  Without Fenris, you’re not going back there, either.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “I’m not sure I want to go back, anyway,” he said, calling his cousin’s bluff.  If he wound up not going back to Hogwarts to almost die for the sixth time, well, Harry wasn’t exactly going to be devastated.

 

Hawke’s eyes narrowed.  “I mean, being locked away in your bedroom is going to get awfully boring after a while.  Although I suppose I could let you out occasionally to keep Aveline company in her office.  But those will pretty much be the only places you’ll go, ever again.”

 

“That’s not fair!” Harry protested, knowing that Hawke was had won the moment he did so.  “Hawke, you can’t just keep me locked away!  And… and what am I supposed to do if Fenris is still mad at me?  I’m just supposed to be locked away in your manor the entire time because he won’t come with me?”

 

“If you try talking to him, and if he isn’t willing to guard you anymore, then we’ll discuss what will need to happen,” Hawke said calmly.  “But if you won’t even go talk to him, then I don’t think I can let you out of my sight ever again.”

 

“This isn’t fair,” Harry muttered.  Never let it be said that he was graceful when acknowledging a defeat.

 

Begrudging every step that he took, he walked into Fenris’ manor.  The door clanged shut ominously behind him and he winced.  He stepped gingerly over the relatively fresh corpse that was decorating the entry hall, then headed into the house.  It wasn’t like he didn’t know exactly where Fenris would be hiding, it was just that he didn’t want to go and find him.  At all.  Period.

 

Harry turned back to the door, but figured that Hawke was probably waiting outside.  And his cousin would never believe that the conversation had taken less than a minute.  “Right,” he said to himself, taking a deep breath.  “Are you a Gryffindor, or aren’t you?  Pull yourself together!”

 

Harry took another deep breath, then headed up the stairs towards the bedroom that Fenris had claimed as his own.  His guard was in there, glowering at an empty bottle while sitting in his usual chair.  When he heard Harry enter the room, his green eyes darted up to meet Harry’s.  Fenris flung the bottle away, but not at Harry.  It shattered against one of the walls.

 

“Hey, Fenris,” Harry said weakly.  He really just wanted to turn around and walk away, now more than ever, but now it really wasn’t an option.  So he walked gingerly into the room and, when Fenris didn’t growl at him or make an otherwise threatening gesture, settled in the chair across from Fenris.

 

“Why did you kiss me?” Fenris blurted out.  He looked distinctly uncomfortable, and was currently staring at the floor rather than looking at Harry.

 

Harry winced.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I just…  I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I figured that you wouldn’t be interested since I’m so young, but I… well, it just kind of… happened.”  Harry let himself fall into an awkward silence, if only so that he stopped babbling.  Why had he let Hawke convince him that this was a good idea, anyway?

 

“Huh.”  Fenris was silent for a very long time as well.  “You’re… very young.  I don’t know how I feel about that.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to protest, to say something like age was just a number or something like he was old for his age, but closed it.  “Sorry,” was all he said, miserably.

 

“Don’t apologize,” Fenris said.  “I’m not… I was startled, but I’m not angry.  I just… don’t know that I return your feelings.”

 

Harry knew that was going to be the answer, still, he hadn’t expected the crushing pain in his chest at the words.  “Oh.”  He blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears that were wanting to well up, and swallowed several times against the lump that formed in his throat.  “I understand,” he said, and hoped that his voice didn’t sound as choked as he thought it did.

 

“Oh… don’t…”  Fenris grimaced, and Harry knew that he hadn’t succeeded.  “I’m sorry,” the elf finally said.

 

“It’s okay,” Harry said, and the words managed to come out almost normal.  “I’m just gonna…” He stood up and turned to leave.  Suddenly, he didn’t even want to know if Fenris was willing to still be his guard.  He didn’t want to leave his room; he didn’t want to run the clinic.  He just wanted to go curl up in bed and hide until everything felt a little bit better.

 

“Harry,” Fenris said, and Harry froze because that was Fenris’ hand on his wrist, warm and strong.  “You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had,” the elf said quietly.  “I don’t want to lose that.”

 

“You won’t,” Harry said quickly.  “We’re still friends, Fenris.  I just… I’m just gonna go hide and nurse my wounds for a little bit, that’s all.”

 

Fenris didn’t let go of his wrist.  Instead, he stroked his thumb over the delicate skin of Harry’s inner wrist.  “Just… just let me think about it, okay? I don’t know that I return your feelings, but I don’t know that I don’t.”

 

The words helped, but not too much.  Still, Harry managed to smile.  “You can take all the time you need,” he said.  “I know I startled you.”

 

Fenris laughed quietly.  “That’s certainly a word for it,” he agreed.  “Now go on.  Is Hawke waiting outside for you, or do you need-”

 

“Hawke’s outside,” Harry said quickly.  The last thing he wanted was to walk with Fenris right then, given how awkward he was currently feeling.

 

“Good.”  Fenris released him, and Harry wasn’t too dignified at all to admit that he fled the manor.

 

Hawke was still waiting outside, leaning against the wall, casually cleaning his fingernails with a knife to scare off some watching nobles that would otherwise have attempted to approach him.  He glanced up when Harry approached.  “How’d it go?”

 

“Awful,” Harry said.  He started walking back to the manor.  “I’m gonna hide in the room for at least the rest of the day, is that okay?”

 

Hawke’s arm landed on his shoulder.  “That’s fine,” his cousin said.  “Do I need to start looking for a new guard for you, then?”

 

Harry shook his head.  “I don’t think so,” he said.  “We’ll be fine, Fenris and I.  I just need to hide for a bit, that’s all.”

 

“If you’re sure.  I’m sure that Isabela would be willing to follow you to Hogwarts,” Hawke said.  He nudged Harry gently with his elbow.  “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

 

“That sounds like a nightmare,” Harry told him flatly.  When he thought about the trouble the pirate could get up to when surrounded by so many young, impressionable minds… He shivered at the very thought.

 

They reached the manor and Harry didn’t wait to greet anyone.  He just fled upstairs, his cousin’s loud, “Have fun wallowing!” echoing behind him.

 

Harry crawled back into his bed and pulled the covers up over his head and finally let himself cry a little bit.  It would be okay, he knew that.  This was just his first love, and he would get over it.  He thought.  But it really hurt right then, and he was glad that he was being given the chance to let it hurt.

 

He just hoped that it would stop soon, because it would be really awkward fighting back tears whenever he was around Fenris.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Things… well, they didn’t return to normal, but they got close to it.  A week or so passed, and Harry got bored of wallowing in his rooms and instead returned to the clinic with Fenris at his side.  Things were slightly awkward between the two of them, but as long as Harry tried not to think about the kiss, and the fact that Fenris probably didn’t like him like that, things were okay.  Not great, but okay.

 

Harry could live with that.

 

Unfortunately, things in Kirkwall were getting worse.  Meredith and Orsino, who had been at each other’s throats for some time now, were getting closer and closer to all out warfare.  Harry had no idea what would happen if the two finally snapped, and he didn’t want to know.  He had an idea that the Right of Annulment might be called, and he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to stand by and watch that happen.  He didn’t know if Hawke would, either.

 

“I will have the tower searched!  Top to bottom!”

 

Harry froze in his step.  That was Meredith.  Shouting at… Orsino, who was standing at the foot of the Chantry.  Why?  

 

“We should keep moving,” Fenris said urgently.  “This doesn’t look to end well, and your cousin isn’t here.”

 

Hawke was… somewhere in the Deep Roads, Harry remembered.  Something about some stupid Grey Warden who was maybe lost?  His cousin always was a sucker for someone looking for family.  He’d left earlier that morning, and Harry didn’t know when he was going to be coming back.  “Don’t you think we should know what’s going on?” he asked Fenris.  His heart wasn’t really in the question.

 

“You have no right to do that, Meredith!” Orsino shouted back.  “My mages have done nothing wrong!”

 

“You won’t let us search the Tower?”  Meredith laughed.  The sound was bitter, ugly.  “What right do you think you have to stop me?  You’re a mage, Orsino, for all that you’re First Enchanter.  You can’t stop me from finding the maleficarum that you’re hiding.”

 

“You’ve lost your mind, Meredith!”

 

“I think you’ve both lost your minds!” Hawke’s voice rang out over the gathering crowd, and Harry relaxed at the sight of his cousin, striding towards the arguing pair.  Varric, Merrill, and Aveline were with him, as well as an unfamiliar Grey Warden.

 

“Unless you’re finally going to pick a side, Champion, you stay out of this!” Meredith snapped.  “It isn’t like we don’t all know that you’re an Apostate.  I should have you clapped in irons!”

 

Harry slid up to join with his cousin’s party, trusting that Fenris was at his side.  The crowd was growing restless, and Orsino looked like he was about to lose his temper.  He’d seen firsthand what angry mages could do his first summer in Kirkwall, when Anders had nearly destroyed this very Chantry.  He wanted to be nearby both to help his cousin and to keep Hawke from worrying over him.

 

“Take care what accusations you levy in public, Knight Commander,” Hawke was saying.  His hand made a gripping motion, like he wanted to have his staff in hand and was regretting that he didn’t.  He didn’t draw it, though, in spite of his very clear desire to do so.

 

“You think you have power here, Champion?” Meredith sneered.  “Please.  I have all of the power, and neither of you have any of it!  You think that anyone would argue with me if I were to call for the Right of Annulment?  I know what your mages are up to, Orsino!”

 

Orsino’s face went masklike with an expression of terrible rage.  “You think that you and your Templars have any idea what a mage can do when cornered?” he asked, his voice gone whisper soft.  “You have no idea, Meredith!” he roared.  He turned and stalked away.

 

“Threatening me, Orsino?” Meredith shouted after him, and he stilled on the lowest step.  “That’s it.  The final straw!  It’s clear to me that the mages in Kirkwall have taken leave of their senses, and there’s nothing left for it but to call for an Annulment!”

 

Orsino flinched.  “Meredith, you can’t!” he shouted, whirling back around to stare at her, his expression horrified.  Word was already racing through the square, and Harry could feel the electric current of fear increasing by the second.

 

“I just did.  Templars!” she snapped, and at least five of them broke away and headed for the docks.  “And as for you, Champion.  I think the time has more than come for you to choose your side.  Either you stand with the Templars, as would only be intelligent for a man in your somewhat unique circumstances, or you stand with the mages, and you can die with them as well.”

 

Hawke just stared at her, his eyebrows raising.  “Or, I could take the third option,” he said quietly.  

 

Already, Harry could hear shouting as word began to spread that the Rite of Annulment had officially been called.  Those Templars wouldn’t be long reaching the Gallows, and Harry could already see smoke rising.  Part of him wondered if it was a coincidence; the rest of him knew that it couldn’t be.  This was going to be a disaster.

 

“There is no third option, Hawke,” Meredith snapped.

 

“I am, and always have been, the Champion of Kirkwall.  Look at the city, Meredith, and tell me that you don’t think this night’s going to be a nightmare for the innocent civilians?  You call your Rite of Annulment if you have to, but I’ll be with me and mine protecting everyone else from the madness.”  Hawke glanced at Orsino and shook his head.  “From both of you.”

 

“Then we’ll come for you too, Hawke,” Meredith said.  She gave a gesture, and one of her Templars went for Orsino.  The First Enchanter detonated a fireball in the Templar’s face and fled in the ensuing chaos.  Meredith didn’t pursue.  Instead, she swept away in the direction of the docks, her templars following her.  One of them, Knight Captain Cullen, didn’t follow her.

 

He stayed and looked worriedly up at the Chantry.  “Someone should speak with the Grand Cleric,” he said slowly, and stared at Hawke, one eyebrow raised.  “Perhaps she could put a stop to this madness.”

 

Hawke laughed, the sound not at all amused.  “Why would she, when she hasn’t put a stop to it yet?”  Still, he started up the steps.  “Harry, I’d tell you to head back to the manor, or to the clinic, but I can’t imagine that anywhere will be safe tonight.  So just stick with Fenris and myself.  Nathaniel, lovely rescuing you, but I’ve got a city to try and save.”

 

“I’ll stay and help out, if you don’t mind,” the Warden said.  “It’s the least I can do, and it’s not like anyone is expecting me back.”

 

“Glad to have you,” Hawke said.  “Aveline?”

 

“I should go gather the guard.  Get them prepared.  It’s going to be a rough night.”  An explosion rocked the city as she said it, and everybody flinched.  It wasn’t nearby, but it was close enough that they felt the shockwaves.

 

The Grand Cleric, as they spoke, had emerged from the Chantry and was staring out over the city.  “What in the world is going on?” she asked, coming down the stairs.  Sebastian emerged behind her, one hand on his bow.

 

Hawke just glared at her.  “Exactly what we knew would happen, since you refused to intervene with Meredith.  She’s called a Rite of Annulment.  You could still stop this, I’m sure, if you spoke with her.” Hawke said it as though he didn’t have much hope that she would actually do anything to intervene.

 

And Harry was sad to see that his cousin was right, because the old woman was already shaking her head.  “It is not my place to tell Meredith what she can and cannot do,” Elthina said, and began the climb back up the stairs.  “I will pray for the souls of the lost.”

 

“Right, cause knowing that you’re praying for them will totally bring them back from the dead,” Harry muttered.

 

He was rewarded with a quirk of his cousin’s lips.  “Be nice,” Hawke said out loud, though he didn’t sound like he meant it.

 

The night that followed was nothing short of a total nightmare.  The city seemed as though it was full of both Abominations and Templars who were happy to attack anything that moved.  Harry didn’t see much of the fighting, although he did get the pleasure of shocking anything that moved aggressively in his direction.  Instead, he did what he could with the wounded civilians, easing pain where he could and healing as many wounds as he could.  He got his first taste of lyrium that night, as he used the potions to keep his energy up.  Hawke allowed him only two, and those were given to him with several hours between them.

 

By morning, when Harry thought that the worst of it was over,  a runner from the docks came for Hawke.  “It’s coming on a boat,” he gasped out, his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.  “Knight Captain Cullen doesn’t know what it is, but it’s red and it’s glowing and it’s huge!”

 

“Oh, Andraste’s ass!” Hawke shouted.  “Let’s go deal with whatever survived the mess in the Gallows, then!  Harry, one more lyrium potion for you, but then you’re never getting more, ever.  Everyone else, do what you need to in order to be ready to fight in the next few minutes.”

 

Harry took the third lyrium potion and grimaced.  He hated the way they made him feel, and didn’t want to risk addiction.  Finally, after a long second spent considering, he tucked it into his belt.  “I’ll take it if I have to,” he told his cousin.  He cast a few regenerative spells on the rest of the group.  Isabela had joined them at some point, and Aveline had rejoined them as well with her darling Donnic.  There were a handful of guards nearby, all of whom looked every bit as exhausted as the rest of the party.

 

“We’ll be fine,” Fenris said, but he sounded worn down as well.

 

Harry hoped he was right.

 

Fenris was right, of course, though it was a near thing.  The abomination on the docks turned out to be some unholy fusion of Meredith, a monster made up of mages’ bodies, and a strange form of red lyrium that Hawke, Varric, and Fenris recognized from a time before Harry had joined them.  The fight was long, hard, and almost impossible.  Harry did wind up taking that third lyrium potion, if only to keep everyone else on their feet.  By the time it was over, there was a permanent statue of creepy glowing red fused in the middle of the docks, and everyone looked like they were about to collapse.

 

“Right,” Hawke said, his voice utterly wrecked.  He saluted in Cullen’s general direction.  “You’re in charge now.  Have fun with it, Knight Captain.  Me and mine are going to crash now.  Make sure my city’s still standing when I wake up.”

 

“Hawke,” Cullen called after him.  “Thank you.”

 

Hawke didn’t say anything, didn’t even look back.  Harry did, and found that Cullen was staring at the red lyrium thing with an expression of utter disgust on his face.  Then he was being tugged away, and that was fine, because he was so exhausted that he didn’t think he could stay on his feet for much longer.

 

He was so tired, in fact, that he didn’t even notice that Fenris wound up in his bed with him, on top of the sheets.  He was asleep too soon to even begin to appreciate having the elf so close to him, asleep beside him.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“I don’t want to go out there and see what’s left of the city,” Hawke was saying, now that breakfast was over and he, Harry, Fenris, Sirius, and pretty much everyone else were just sitting around the table.  Except for Aveline and Sebastian, because unlike the rest of the lot, those two had obligations to see to in the early morning.

 

“Come on, Hawke, it can’t be that bad.  We kept most of the city from burning last night,” Varric said with some semblance of cheer.

 

“Besides, if the world were still ending, I’m sure that Aveline would have sent someone to get us sooner,” Isabela pointed out.  “It’s not like her guards can handle anything.”

 

“I hate all of you,” Hawke said.  Just as he said it, they all heard the door open, followed by a rush of voices from the outside.  “What the-”  Hawke cut off when Aveline stormed into the living room.

 

She rolled her eyes at the sight of everyone.  “Of course you’re all still sitting and eating,” she said with a sigh.  “Hawke, your adoring public would very much like it if you would come out and say hello.”  The Guard Captain smirked at him, like she knew something that they didn’t.

 

Hawke frowned and stood.  “What adoring public?” he asked.

 

Harry wandered towards the door.  He heard the crowd before he even opened it, and opening it and seeing them made him wince.  He closed the door and headed back into the manor.  “Well, I could be wrong, but it looks like pretty much all of Kirkwall is out there,” he said.  “What comes after being made Champion of Kirkwall, anyway?”

 

Hawke went white and Harry wondered what he’d said.  As he was trying to figure it out, both Varric and Isabela started laughing while Hawke went even paler.  “Aveline, they wouldn’t,” he said, his voice weak.

 

“Oh, I think you’ll find that they would,” Aveline said smugly.  “Just imagine, after all the trouble you’ve given me, now you’ll be getting that same kind of trouble from someone else.”

 

“I won’t do it,” Hawke said quickly.  “I won’t.  I’ll leave Kirkwall.  Strike out with… with everyone, and find a new place to live and go on adventures!  You can’t let them make me responsible, Aveline!”

 

“You think I didn’t try to tell them what a terrible idea it was?”  Aveline laughed, the sound genuinely amused.  “Trust me, Hawke, I tried to tell them.  But when you do heroic things, people tend to expect further heroics.  And the city is, as of right now, without anyone to lead it other than myself and an old woman who refused to intervene when there were lives at stake.  Noble lives, Hawke, meaning that there are noble people who are rather cross right now.  And you can believe that I won’t be doing this on my own.”

 

“It’s not fair,” Hawke whimpered.

 

That’s when Harry figured it out.  “You’re going to be Viscount,” he breathed, his eyes lighting up.  Then he frowned.  “Wait, does that mean that I won’t be able to run the clinic anymore?”

 

“You’ll still be able to run your clinic,” Hawke promised.  “If only because if these idiots are stupid enough to demand that I be Viscount, then they’re going to get exactly what they deserve for making such a ridiculous demand.”

 

“So the adventuring will still be a thing?” Merrill asked.  “I only ask because sometimes it gets a bit boring in the alienage, not that I would ever say that to any of the elves there.  But I do very much enjoy getting to leave Kirkwall and doing interesting things with you, Hawke.”

 

“Adventuring will still be a thing.  And now I’ll just get to order the Guard Captain to come along,” Hawke said cheerfully.  He stood, stretched, and headed for the door.

 

“Hawke, you’re still in your pajamas!” Sirius called.

 

Hawke just shrugged.  “Ask me if I care?  They want me, they can take me as I am.”

 

The crowd roared for him as he emerged, pajamas and all, and Hawke became the first Viscount to be so titled while in his pajamas, much to Seneschal Bran’s extreme dismay.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The rest of the summer flew by.  There was so much to do, and not nearly enough time to do it all in.  In spite of all that they’d done to keep the city safe, parts of Kirkwall still needed rebuilding, a process which took most of Harry’s spare time.  He reopened his clinic and spent several hours a day treating the wounded as best he could, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was physically working to rebuild some of the things damaged in the fighting.  

 

Fenris stayed with him the entire time, along with an occasional contingent of guards from Aveline and Hawke.  The guards were only around when Harry wasn’t working in the clinic.  Hawke said something about plausible deniability, and Harry didn’t ask many questions.

 

Before Harry knew it, it was time to return to Hogwarts for his sixth year.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to go, not with Kirkwall still in shambles, but Sirius and Hawke talked him into it.  They reminded him that he was only going to have two years left at the school, and that Kirkwall would still need him when he got back.  He should finish at Hogwarts while he had the chance.

 

It still might not have been enough, but Harry managed to eavesdrop on a very tense conversation about a potential Exalted March being called on the city.  He still didn’t want to go to Hogwarts, but he understood that both Hawke and Sirius wanted him to be someplace at least resembling safe.  And if an Exalted March was coming, that place would not be Kirkwall.

 

Harry honestly wasn’t sure if Fenris would be going with him that year, given the political climate and the awkwardness that still lingered between them, not until the time came for him to leave for the train station once more.  Then Fenris was there with his bags, looking quietly awkward.  For all that they’d spent time together over the past few weeks, they hadn’t really spent much time alone.  Harry resolved to do his best not to make things any harder on Fenris by visibly mooning over him, and to try and keep their friendship as close to a true friendship as he could.

  
He just hoped that this year at Hogwarts was a quiet one, because he didn’t know how much more in the way of adventures he could handle.


	9. Chapter Eight - Sixth Year

After all of the excitement of his summer spent not adventuring, Harry had to say that stepping on to the train was something of a letdown.  It was his sixth year, the year in between OWLs and NEWTs, the last year before he would have to worry about mundane things like figuring out what he wanted to do and finding a job, and Harry just… couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“I think I’d rather go back to Kirkwall,” Harry muttered to Fenris, who was waiting with him in the train compartment.  There was still some awkwardness left between them, but then, Harry had known there would be.  He supposed that it helped that neither one of them were talking about the kiss or Harry’s feelings, but…

 

“You can’t just go back to Kirkwall,” Fenris said, impatiently.  “You literally just got finished having this conversation with Hawke.  You deserve to spend some time having a normal year.”

 

Harry scowled at Fenris.  “When, in all of my years at Hogwarts, have I had a normal year?” he asked, mildly amused at the very idea.

 

“Hawke is hoping-”

 

“I know what my cousin is hoping,” Harry interrupted.  “He’s hoping to have Kirkwall under control by the time I get back.  I get that.  He’s hoping that he’ll be able to make it a little bit safer, that we won’t be facing an Exalted March-”

 

“Where did you hear about the-”

 

“Oh please!”  Harry laughed and shook his head.  “You and Hawke and Sirius and everyone else thinks they’re so clever, not telling me about the Divine and her concerns about Kirkwall, but do you think I’m an idiot?  Hawke killed the Knight Commander!  Of course there was going to be some kind of investigation.”

 

“So… you figured it out all on your own?”  Fenris stared at him, unimpressed.

 

Harry just laughed again.  “Sure.  All by myself.  You know, my darling cousin should have reconsidered what he was doing when he had Isabela teach me all about sneaking around.  You guys didn’t even notice me hiding in the shadows during the conversation last night.”

 

Fenris winced.  “I think that your cousin thought that you would respect his privacy.”

 

“I thought about it,” Harry said with a shrug as Ron and Hermione joined them in the train compartment.  He would have thought they’d find somewhere else to sit, given that they weren’t really friends anymore, but he supposed they still wanted to keep the illusion, for whatever reason.  That was fine.  It wasn’t as though Harry couldn’t stand them.  He could at least stand to be polite, he supposed.  “And then I remembered that I’m kind of attached to my cousin, and he kind of gets himself into stupid messes.  So I wanted to know what kind of mess he was going to be getting himself into this year while I was gone.  Hey Ron, hey Hermione.”

 

“Is your cousin in some kind of trouble?” Hermione asked, sounding concerned.

 

Given that neither of them had bothered writing that summer, and the fact that neither had spoken to him much at all in their fifth year, Harry couldn’t imagine that they were that concerned.  “Nothing he can’t handle, I’m sure,” Harry said with a dismissive shrug.  “But he’d rather I be at Hogwarts than be involved in it.”

 

“That’s very responsible of him,” Hermione said with a nod.  “Hogwarts is one of the safest places there is, after all.”

 

Harry stared at her in silence, his mouth open ever so slightly.  He wanted to object, to point out the number of times that he’d almost died since coming to Hogwarts, but eventually just closed his mouth and shook his head.  He turned to Fenris.  “I really do wish that I could figure out how to keep the clinic open while I’m here, though.  You think Widow Bering is gonna pull through okay?”

 

“If she listens to the instructions you left her, she should be fine,” Fenris said.  He turned a page in his book rather pointedly.

 

Harry sighed and slumped in his seat.  “But what about-”

 

“They were managing before you reopened the clinic; I’m sure they’ll manage again.”  As Fenris spoke, the train began to pull away from the station.  “And now it’s too late for you to change your mind and get off the train.  So you’ll just have to focus on your schoolwork.”

 

“Right, because that’s so diverting,” Harry muttered.  He cracked open his potions book, the one he’d halfheartedly been hoping he wouldn’t need because he’d thought his OWL wouldn’t be high enough, but it turned out that Anders’ tutoring really had helped him out all those summers ago.  Snape was just going to have to put up with him in Potions this year.

 

The silence stretched out for a rather long time, until Hermione said, “So, what did you do over the summer, Harry?”

 

Harry blinked at her.  “Got kidnapped,” he said.  “Got very drunk.  Saved some lives, hopefully.  Got my cousin named Viscount.”

 

Fenris’ nose wrinkled.  “Must you remind me of the kidnapping?” the elf asked.

 

“Always,” Harry answered.  “You let me get kidnapped, and then I had to endure a horribly awkward conversation with my cousin about how, if anything happened, it would be okay and I could tell him.”

 

“What?”  Fenris looked genuinely confused.

 

Harry flushed as he remembered what had actually brought about that conversation.  He cleared his throat, then said, “It’s because I got very, very drunk after the kidnapping.  Hawke and Sirius thought that I was trying to forget something awful happening during the kidnapping, rather than that I was an idiot and… well.  You remember.”

 

Fenris’ cheeks went oddly pink.  “Yes,” he said, and cleared his throat.  He went back to studying his book.  “I do remember.”

 

Silence fell in the compartment once more, and this time it wasn’t broken until the train was pulling into the station.  Harry used the silence to read ahead in his textbooks, figuring that, if nothing else, even though he was apparently dead, Voldemort would find some way to disrupt the school year, so he might as well start studying now.  The potions books were also helpful when it came to treating patients at the clinic, and he wanted to research some remedies for some of the more common illnesses he was seeing while he had access to Hogwarts’ library.

 

His ambivalence for the school year, because that was honestly what he was feeling rather than an outright sort of hatred, switched quickly over to hatred when he found out that the new professor of the year wasn’t a new Defense professor, but rather was a new Potions professor.  Snape would be teaching the class that had previously been Harry’s favorite, and some new professor by the name of Slughorn would be taking Potions.

 

Harry sighed and slumped in his chair.  “This year’s off to a great start,” he muttered to Fenris.

 

Fenris, to his surprise, patted him on the shoulder consolingly.  The touch wasn’t so surprising, it was the way Fenris’ hand lingered after he’d done so that was more startling.

 

Harry swallowed and tried not to dwell on the warm impression left behind when Fenris finally withdrew his hand.  He wondered if that meant that Fenris really was still thinking about the kiss as well, and if maybe he was considering Harry in a more favorable light than he had been.

 

The thought made Harry’s heart race and his cheeks flush.  He barely heard the rest of the announcements before they were dismissed for the night, and spent the rest of the night in something of a happy daze, knowing that he was being more than a little childish but unable to stop himself from doing it.

 

Fenris, clearly, was not unaware of the effect he was having on Harry, given the way that he smirked for the rest of the night.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry’s happy daze lasted only as long as the next morning, when he received a note from the Headmaster’s office, asking him to come and see Harry instead of going to his first class.  Harry scowled down at the note, but didn’t decide to ignore it in spite of being incredibly tempted to do so.  Instead, he finished eating and grabbed his bag and headed for the Headmaster’s office, Fenris at his side.

 

When he arrived, the gargoyle was already out of his way and the Headmaster was waiting for him.  He looked somewhat startled to see Fenris at Harry’s side.  “I was hoping that we could speak alone,” the old man said.

 

Harry thought about it.  “Fenris?” he finally asked.  He didn’t see any reason why not, but he wasn’t sure that Fenris would be willing to leave him alone given what had happened the last time he’d gone someplace in Hogwarts without the elf.

 

“I’ll wait outside,” Fenris said after a moment of consideration.  “But know this, Headmaster.  If you hurt him in any way-”

 

“I can assure you, I have no intentions of doing harm to Harry,” the Headmaster said.  “I just need to speak with him.”  Harry was then ushered into the Headmaster’s office, where the Headmaster sat behind his desk and stared at Harry in silence for a long minute.  Then, quietly, he asked, “How was your summer?”

 

Harry stared back at him.  “It was good.  Eventful.  There was some trouble, but Hawke handled it fairly well.  I ran a clinic for part of the summer.”  Dumbledore couldn’t possibly have called him to his office to just talk about his summer, though, right?

 

“Ran a clinic?”  Dumbledore smiled, the expression a little bit startled.  “Harry, my dear boy, I didn’t know that you were interested in the healing arts.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “I’m good at it, and it’s something badly needed in Kirkwall.  But Headmaster, I know there must be something you need to speak with me about, given that you’ve pulled me here instead of letting me go to class.”

 

The Headmaster cleared his throat.  “You’re right,” he said quietly.  He lifted his right arm and let his hand rest on his desk.  The hand was gloved, and the Headmaster pulled the glove off, allowing Harry to see that his hand was blackened, looking almost burnt.  “I’m dying, Harry,” he said quietly.

 

Harry’s breath caught.  His first thought was that the Headmaster had asked him here to take a look at it, to see if maybe Outrealm magic could fix it, but then he remembered that the Headmaster hadn’t even known that he’d been studying healing magic.  So…  “And I assume that you have something you need to tell me before it happens?”  Nothing else made sense.

 

“There is a prophecy, Harry, that you might have found out about last year, had you been the one to travel to the Department of Mysteries.  That prophecy states that you have the power the Dark Lord knows not, and that you alone can defeat him.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “But Voldemort’s dead,” he said out loud, even as he groaned internally.  He’d known it.  He’d thought it on the train ride here, that somehow Voldemort would disrupt his studies even from the grave, and apparently he’d been right.

 

“Yes, but Harry, he won’t stay dead.  Not for long.  He has these… items of power that allow him to return, over and over again.  They are of the blackest of magics.”

 

Harry sighed.  “And we need to collect them all and destroy them?” he guessed.  Because his life wasn’t already enough like the plot of a bad fantasy novel.  Sometimes he thought that really he was just a character in one of Varric’s stories…

 

“Yes,” Dumbledore said.  “Two are already gone.  The… the ring, which cursed me like this, and the diary, which you eliminated in your second year.  I don’t yet know how many others remain, but I’m hoping that I’ll have some success in figuring it out.”

 

“I wish you the best of luck with that,” Harry said.  “I’m planning on focusing on my studies this year, Headmaster.  So that when I return to Kirkwall, I can be a better healer than I was this past summer.  There are lives I could be saving there.”

 

“There are lives you could be saving here,” Dumbledore said.  “Lives that are going to depend on you.  Anyone could be a healer, Harry.  You’re needed here as a hero.”

 

“Respectfully, Headmaster, I’m just a sixteen year old boy.  Also, you promised my cousin that I would be safer here at Hogwarts this year than I was in years past.  So I won’t be joining you while you’re hunting these… these things.”  Harry stood up.

 

“Fragments of the Dark Lord’s soul, Harry.  They’re called horcruxes.”  The Headmaster stood as well.  “I’m not asking you to hunt them with me during the school year.  I know how much you value your education.  I’m just asking that… if I should die before my task is completed, Harry, I need to know that someone else will continue it for me.”

 

Harry gritted his teeth.  “I’ll think about it,” was all that he said.  He grabbed his bag and left the office without waiting for a response.

 

Fenris stood when he saw him.  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

 

“It’s fine,” Harry said dismissively.  “The Headmaster just wants me to help him with a side project.  I turned him down.”

 

But somehow, Harry was certain that he hadn’t heard the last of these horcruxes.  He just knew that they were going to come back and haunt him, somehow.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Hawke’s first letter arrived a week later, after Harry was already thoroughly sick of his classes.  Slughorn was awful, Snape was awful, everything was awful.  He wanted nothing more than to go home to Kirkwall, and was strongly considering just not coming back when he went home for Christmas break.  Particularly if Slughorn didn’t stop harassing him about his cousin, ‘The Destroyer of Voldemort,’ or whatever name they’d come up with.

 

The letter, though, that almost made everything worth it.  Particularly, the massive wax seal that was thicker than the envelope it kept closed.  Harry couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the Viscount’s business seal on what was hopefully a personal letter.

 

“Did he really?” Fenris asked, amused.  “He couldn’t have just sealed the letter the normal way?”

 

“I think he wanted the chance to use it again.”  Harry grinned down at the seal, decorating his normally rather plain letter from Kirkwall, and then shoved the whole thing in his pocket.  He’d read it later, when there weren’t a million people around trying to see what he was up to.  The scrutiny was almost as bad this year as it had been the year of the Triwizard Tournament.

 

“That’s right, you did say that your cousin was named Viscount,” Hermione said.  “How did that happen?  I thought he was just an adventurer of some kind.”

 

“Well, he was the Champion, since he defeated the Arishok in armed combat,” Harry said with a shrug.  He’d heard that story many times, particularly when Isabela and Varric were drunk and extolling his cousin’s virtues.  “And he became Viscount after he killed the Knight Commander, who turned into some kind of creepy monster thing.”  When Harry saw the appalled look on Hermione’s face, he hastily added, “It was a really horrible night, Hermione, I try not to think about it.”

 

“You were there?” Ron asked.  A few crumbs spewed from his mouth as he did so, and, when Harry grimaced at the awful table manners, he quickly finished chewing and swallowed.

 

“Of course I was,” Harry said.  “Where else would I have been?  The city was… well, it wasn’t quite up in flames, but Hawke wasn’t about to leave me alone when the mages and the Templars were going at it.”

 

“I knew it was too dangerous out there for you.”  Hermione shook her head and looked down at her plate.  “You really should start staying here for the summers.  Where it’s safe.”

 

“Yes, safe with the Dursleys, who starve me.”  Harry shoved away from the table and stood up.  “I’ve got to get to class.  Fenris?”  He turned on his heel and left the hall.

 

He heard Hermione saying something behind him, but didn’t bother to stop and listen.  Honestly, why did he even try being polite to them?  They weren’t his friends anymore, and he should know that.  He really needed to stop.

 

When he got to his classroom it was, predictably, empty.  He was more than a half hour early, after all.  But he still settled into his seat, because now he could read the letter in relative peace.  He cracked it open and frowned at the contents.

 

_ Harry, _

 

_ I wish that I could be writing with better news, but I can’t.  Things are… tense, I suppose.  Yeah, I think that’s the word I’m looking for.  Things are incredibly tense here.  There’s talk that the Chantry might be dissolving the College of Enchanters, which is bad news for the mages.  Unfortunately, I’ve got too much on my plate right now to worry about the Chantry. _

 

_ Of course, they’re not letting me not worry about it.  There’s talk of putting another Circle here, but Merrill says that whatever talk there is, that’s all it can be.  She’s heard from an… informant in the alienage that there’s some sort of trouble within the Circles themselves.  Varric’s keeping his ears open to see if he can’t find out any more information.  For now, I’m stalling the Chantry on their placing another Circle here, telling them that our city was too damaged by the fighting between the Templars and the last one. _

 

_ I’m keeping the city together, because I’m awesome like that.  The nobles are even more annoying now, and I didn’t even think that was possible.  But at least now I have Seneschal Bran standing between me and them.  I swear, some days I think there’s going to be an assassin coming after me and he’ll have been the one to hire them.  You know how much he hates me. _

 

_ Fenris, keep my cousin safe.  I wouldn’t put it past someone to try and have him killed or kidnapped at Hogwarts as a way of getting to me.  I would like to think that nobody would be stupid enough to do it, but we all know how stupid people are. _

 

_ Padfoot says hello, and also to tell you not to be too serious this year, Harry.  He thinks you should make a little bit of room for mayhem before you finish at Hogwarts next year. _

 

_ Stay safe, _

 

_ Hawke. _

 

Harry cast a quick  _ tempus _ and, seeing that he still had a good twenty minutes until class, he pulled out some parchment and a quill and penned his response.

 

_ Hawke, _

 

_ Telling me to stay safe?  Really?  For once, I think it almost sounds like Hogwarts is the safer place.  You make damned sure that you’re staying safe.  Now that I’ve got a home, and a family, I don’t want to lose it to some disgruntled Seneschal who thinks he deserves to be Viscount.  And don’t fight too hard with the Chantry, please.  They’re bigger and stronger than you (even if you don’t believe it because you’re so awesome and you beat the Arishok). _

 

_ Please don’t be worried about me, in all seriousness.  I promise that I’ll listen to Fenris and that I’ll take good care of myself.  You just worry about yourself and everyone else.  And Padfoot.  Always worry about Padfoot.  He’s always up to something. _

 

_ You stay safe,  _

 

_ Harry. _

 

Harry thought briefly about telling his cousin about the conversation with the Headmaster, and how very concerned he was that something was going to happen this year, in spite of the fact that Voldemort was dead, but he discarded the thought as quickly as it came up.  His cousin had enough on his mind without worrying about Harry’s minor problems.

 

The letter was drying by the time other students started to trickle into the classroom, and by the time the Professor walked in, Harry had folded the letter and put it away so that he could mail it later.  He didn’t make eye contact with either Ron or Hermione when they came in, in spite of their one attempt to engage him in conversation, and instead focused on the lesson that began quickly.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry wasn’t exactly surprised when the note was delivered to him just as dinner was ending a month after classes started.  It was another request to meet in the Headmaster’s office and, though Harry wasn’t particularly thrilled with the idea, he did reluctantly finish eating and head upstairs, Fenris dutifully beside him.

 

Once more the Headmaster requested that Fenris wait outside.  This time, Harry said, “You know that he’s my bodyguard, sir.”

 

“I am aware of that, Mr. Potter,” the old man said.  He looked tired, like every year he’d lived was starting to weigh on him.  The darkness on his hand looked just a little bit darker, and a little bit bigger than it had before, too.

 

“It’s his job to keep me safe, sir.”  Harry didn’t dismiss Fenris.  “If whatever it is that you’re telling me is dangerous, then he has the right to know as well.”

 

The Headmaster was silent for a very long time.  Finally, he said, “Harry, my dear boy, the fewer people who know about this particular thing, the better it will be for everyone involved.”

 

Harry lifted his chin, but hesitated.  He could always tell Fenris later… and the Headmaster was an idiot if he didn’t realize that.  “If you say so, sir,” he said finally, and nodded for Fenris to leave the room.  His guard didn’t like it, Harry could tell by the scowl on his face, but he did, in fact, go.  The only sign of his displeasure was the way he let the door slam closed behind him.

 

“I wanted to update you on the hunt for the horcruxes,” Dumbledore said.  “I haven’t wanted to bother you too much, because I know that you’ve been quite busy, but I thought that you might like to know that we’ve had some progress.”

 

Harry closed his eyes.  He’d thought that was what this was about.  He didn’t care about the horcruxes, but of course, Dumbledore didn’t want to hear that.  If he tried to argue, it might take more time than Harry cared to waste on this little project of the Headmaster’s.  So, instead of telling the Headmaster how little he cared, Harry just said, “That’s good news, right?”

 

“It is,” Dumbledore said, twinkling at him.  “We’ve successfully destroyed two more of them.  One was found in his snake, Nagini, who was prowling the Forbidden Forest a few weeks ago.  The second was in a cup, which we had some difficulty tracking.  We managed it, and now that horcrux is also destroyed.  And, perhaps the best news of all, is that we think we know how many there are.”

 

Harry was, in spite of all of his lack of interest in Voldemort, a bit curious about how many objects the Dark Lord had used.  “How many?” he asked.

 

“Three remain, if my calculations are correct,” Dumbledore said with a small, self-satisfied nod.

 

“Congratulations,” Harry said.  He didn’t check the time, but he did add, “Please, sir, I have some homework to get to, if that was all you wanted?”

 

“Of course, dear boy,” Dumbledore said.  He was still beaming at Harry, as though Harry’s one little question had made him the happiest man in the world.  Harry didn’t think that was the case, but then, maybe it was.  Maybe the curse was rotting his brain as well as his hand.

 

Either way, Harry stood and excused himself politely before finding Fenris waiting in the other room.  “Let’s go back to the Tower,” he suggested, and when Fenris nodded, they started walking.

 

Harry didn’t, however, take them to the Tower.  Instead, he headed in the opposite direction.  “We need to talk,” he said, keeping his voice low.  “Someplace where we can’t be overheard.”

 

Fenris walked with him for a moment, then said quietly, “Follow me.”  He set out in another direction.

 

Harry would follow Fenris anywhere, a fact that made his cheeks flush ever so slightly the second he thought it.  Then he forced the thought away and instead followed his guard up to the seventh floor of the castle, where Fenris told him to wait where he was, then proceeded to pace back and forth, up and down the length of the hallway.

 

Just as Harry was about to ask him what he was doing, a door appeared, which Fenris ushered him through.  “The elves call it the Come and Go Room,” his guard said quietly.  “I learned about it my first year here with you.”

 

It looked just like the library in Hawke’s house in Kirkwall, and Harry tried not to cry at the sudden rush of homesickness the sight of it inspired within him.  He’d never felt that way before, at least not as intensely as he was feeling it just then.  But he closed his eyes until the feeling passed, then settled himself in one of the chairs.

 

It even felt exactly the same.  “This place is amazing,” Harry told Fenris honestly.

 

Fenris smiled at him, the expression soft and genuine.  It made the elf even more beautiful than he was, and Harry had to look away.  Then Fenris ruined the mood.  “What did you need to talk to me about?”

 

“Dumbledore’s hunting bits that Voldemort left around that would be able to bring him back to life,” Harry said bluntly, deciding to just get it over with.  “They’re called horcruxes, and one of them had this curse on it, so he’s dying.  He wanted me to promise to take over the hunt when he’s dead.”

 

“You can’t do that,” Fenris said immediately.  “It’s too dangerous; Hawke wouldn’t allow it.  I won’t allow it.”  The fierce protectiveness in Fenris’ voice warmed Harry from the inside.

 

“I’m not planning to.  I tried to express my disinterest the last time, but he didn’t seem inclined to take no for an answer.  So I told him that I’d think about it.  And now he’s updated me on his progress, and I’m a little alarmed that he’s going to find a way to make me participate.”  Harry didn’t look at Fenris as he spoke.  He didn’t think he was overreacting, but if he was, he didn’t want to see it on Fenris’ face.  The elf had a very expressive face, after all.

 

A hand touched his chin, gently tilting his head up.  Harry went very still and stared at Fenris, his eyes going wide.  “Thank you for telling me,” Fenris said quietly.  “I think this is something to worry about.  I’ll keep an eye out for any attempts at manipulation from the Headmaster.”

 

Harry blinked, his cheeks flushing.  Fenris was very, very close, close enough to…  He closed his eyes and pulled back, his cheeks still flaming red.  “Right,” he said, and cleared his throat.  “I’m glad it’s not just me being paranoid.”  He could still feel Fenris’ fingers under his chin, like a ghost of a touch.

 

“It’s not,” Fenris confirmed quietly.  “I’ll do my best to keep you safe, Harry.”

 

“I know you will,” Harry answered quickly.  “That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

 

He didn’t know what he was afraid of, but something about this whole horcrux thing… it felt off to him.  He just wished that he could put his finger on why… 

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Things only got worse with the next letter from Kirkwall, much to Harry’s frustration.  The letter came just before the last day to sign up to stay for Christmas break, and Harry supposed that at least it was a good thing it had come by then, given that Hawke was asking him to stay.  The fact that the letter looked rather battered, like it hadn’t had an easy trip to Hogwarts, only leant credence to the weight of the words within it.

 

_ Harry, _

 

_ You can’t come home for Christmas.  I’m sorry, but I wanted to lead with that.  It just isn’t safe here.  I know that Hogwarts is… rarely any better, actually, but I can’t justify letting you walk into this mess.  I’ve had to close Kirkwall’s borders. _

 

_ I know, I know, it sounds extreme.  But I’ve raised the chains and everything, and let me tell you what, that is a horrifying sight.  Those things are massive.  Isabela left in her new ship just the day before I raised them.  She didn’t want to, but she didn’t have a choice.  She had to get Merrill out of the city.  There are roving bands of thugs hunting for anyone who just happens to be a magic user.  Merrill was attacked in broad daylight.  She defended herself, of course, and killed them all.  The aftermath wasn’t pretty, and Isabela took her rather than letting her face whatever justice would have awaited her had she been caught by the Templars.  The clinic, I’m sad to say, has been completely destroyed in the chaos.  I’m doing what I can to have it restored, but… well, it’s not easy right now. _

 

_ There’s unrest in Orlais, which is making everyone uneasy.  Rumors are starting that there might be a civil war coming, and I’d really rather keep Kirkwall out of it, hence the chains being raised.  They’re also keeping large numbers of Orlesian Templars from entering my city, meaning we’re just stuck with Cullen and whatever men he has left.  At least they’re… fairly reasonable, or they used to be.  But something’s happening with them, too, that I can’t begin to explain.  I’m concerned that Cullen is losing control of them, though I can’t imagine why. _

 

_ I know that you were hoping to come home for Christmas, but Harry, I can’t in good conscience allow it.  It’s too dangerous here right now, and I have too many things on my plate to worry about you as well.  So stay at Hogwarts, where Fenris will keep you safe.  I’m so sorry about this.   _

 

_ All my love, _

_ Hawke. _

 

_ Harry, _

 

_ I’m keeping an eye on him.  He’s getting rest and he’s eating well, even when I have to pin him down and force him.  I’m sorry that we won’t see you over Christmas, but I know that you’ll understand that this decision wasn’t made lightly. _

 

_ Take care of yourself while I take care of him, okay? _

_ Sirius. _

 

Harry let out a shuddering sigh.  The last thing he wanted was to stay here over break, mostly because he’d wanted to talk to Hawke about the whole horcrux thing and he didn’t think it was a good idea to write about such things in a letter.  But the last thing he wanted was to give his cousin even more to worry about.

 

“Everything okay?” Fenris asked.  He was on Harry’s bed, lounging there like he belonged there, while Harry was sitting on the edge of it.

 

He was also trying very hard to concentrate on the letter, and not on Fenris.  In his bed.  Looking rather comfortable there.  So he cleared his throat and said, “Hawke says that coming home for Christmas isn’t a good idea.”

 

Fenris sat up.  “Why?”  His voice was sharp with concern and irritation.

 

“There’s trouble with Orlais, and trouble with the Chantry, and trouble with Kirkwall’s Templars,” Harry said, staring at the letter in his hand.  “Merrill had to flee with Isabela, and Hawke’s closed Kirkwall’s borders.  It’s a mess.  He said he even raised the chains, which I’m assuming means the ones in the harbor.”

 

Fenris let out a small huff of breath.  “That’s not good.  Your cousin isn’t one to react that way unless there’s a reason for it.”

 

“No,” Harry agreed.  “Which is why I’m not going to complain, and I’m just going to go ahead and register us to stay for break, no matter how much I want to go home.”

 

Fenris nodded, and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.  “I’m sorry we can’t go back,” Fenris said quietly.

 

“I’m just hoping it’ll all be resolved in time for me to come home for the summer,” Harry said with a shaky smile.  What was he going to do if it wasn’t?  He shoved the thought aside.  Hawke would never make him go back to the Dursleys, no matter how terrible things got in Kirkwall.

 

“He won’t make us stay over the summer,” Fenris said confidently, his hand a little more firm on Harry’s shoulder.  He squeezed, and Harry relaxed even further.

 

After a few minutes of silence, Harry finally shifted away from Fenris.  “I guess I’d better go put our names on the list to stay,” he said glumly.

 

“It won’t be so bad,” Fenris said quietly.

 

Harry hoped that he was right.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

It probably wouldn’t have been so bad, staying for Christmas, except that Harry found himself being asked to stay after Potions class on the last day before break.

 

“So, Mr. Potter,” Professor Slughorn was saying, looking almost manically cheerful.  “I understand that you’re going to be with us for Christmas this year?”

 

Harry tried not to groan.  “I am, Professor,” he said instead, as politely as he could manage.

 

“Good, good.  I was wondering if you might be interested, you see, I’m throwing this small soiree, and I thought that you might like to attend?  Perhaps have a bit of Christmas cheer with all of the best and brightest from Hogwarts?”

 

Harry winced internally.  “Professor, I don’t know that that’s a good idea,” he said quickly.  “I don’t know that I’ll be much in the mood for holiday cheer.  There’s some trouble back home, you see, and my mind is going to be on that for most of the break.”

 

“Well, then it will do you good to take your mind off of it!” Professor Slughorn said, beaming.  “Don’t you worry, Mr. Potter, you’ll have a grand time at the party.  I simply won’t take no for an answer.”  There was something hard in his eyes that Harry wasn’t fond of.

 

Well, it was one evening.  As little as he wanted to, one evening wouldn’t hurt anything, would it?

 

“Very well, Professor,” Harry said with a small sigh.  “You understand, of course, that my guard will be coming with me?”

 

Slughorn’s eyes lit up.  “Of course, of course.  I wouldn’t dream of excluding your guard.  He’s always so polite in class.  But he will be expected to follow the dress code for the party.  Dress robes are mandatory, Mr. Potter.”

 

Harry gritted his teeth.  “I’m sure Fenris will be dressed appropriately,” he said, with as fake a smile as he’d ever had on his face.

 

It was official.  Christmas break was going to be the absolute worst.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Christmas break was absolutely the worst, just as Harry had suspected.  Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were the only Gryffindors who stayed, meaning that Harry was stuck spending time with them if he wanted to spend time with anyone other than Fenris.  Which he didn’t, but they didn’t seem to realize that.

 

He thought that maybe things were looking up when Ginny asked if she could come with him to Hogsmeade, but quickly realized that he’d made a terrible mistake in saying yes.  She wouldn’t let go of his arm, and Fenris, who was walking several steps behind him, wouldn’t stop smirking.

 

“Ginny,” Harry tried, tugging gently to free his arm.  He didn’t want to hurt her, and he knew that he was more than capable of doing so.  He just wanted her to let go of him.

 

“Oh, Harry, I’m so pleased you agreed to take me to Hogsmeade,” she was saying.  She looked up at him and beamed.  “At first I thought that you were going to say no, since you’re always spending time with that elf of yours, but you said yes, and I’m really happy now!”

 

“That elf of… Ginny, he’s not my elf,” Harry said quickly, his eyes widening in horror.  Was that what people thought of Fenris?  Did they think that Harry owned him or something?  What the hell?  “He’s my friend!  And my bodyguard.  It’s not like I own him.”

 

She waved a careless hand as though brushing aside his concerns.  “You know what I mean,” she said airily.

 

When Harry glanced behind himself, Fenris was laughing, covering his mouth with one hand.  But the twinkle in his eyes gave it away.  Harry glared at him, and Fenris only dropped his hand so that Harry could see his grin of amusement.  “She’s got a crush,” the elf mouthed to Harry, his lips twitching.

 

Harry groaned.  “Ginny, listen,” he started.  He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, as Ginny flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

 

Harry couldn’t say that she actually managed to surprise him, because the move was more than telegraphed enough that Isabela would take his daggers back if he hadn’t been able to realize what she was doing.  It was just that he couldn’t stop her, not without hurting her.  And as uncomfortable as he was, he wasn’t going to hurt a child because she was kissing him.  Instead, he just stood there, awkwardly, without moving, her lips mashed against his own.

 

Eventually, Ginny got the hint and pulled back.  “What was that?” she asked, laughing.  Her smile faded when she saw the expression on Harry’s face.  “Harry?” she asked.  She sounded confused.

 

“Ginny…”  Harry took a deep breath and took a step back, putting a bit of distance between himself and her.  “I think… I think somewhere I might have misunderstood something.  I thought that we were coming to Hogsmeade today as friends.”

 

Ginny’s face fell.  “As friends?” she repeated, the words dull.  She, too, took a step back.  “You thought we would be coming as friends.”

 

“I’m…”  Harry hesitated.  He hadn’t been planning on telling anyone at Hogwarts, but maybe it would soften the blow.  “Ginny, I’m pretty sure that I’m gay.  I don’t like girls.”  He shrugged awkwardly.

 

“You’re pretty sure… maybe you just haven’t tried it with the right girl?” she suggested.  She took a sudden step forward, then another, her expression changing.  Her eyes widened and she parted her lips ever so slightly.

 

Harry backed up again.  “I don’t think that’s the case,” he said quickly.  He’d never felt anything for Isabela, after all, and if he liked girls even a little bit he was pretty sure he would have some kind of reaction to the pirate.

 

Ginny’s face hardened.  “You mean to tell me that you let me come here, thinking it was a date, and you don’t even like me?” she asked.  Her voice had gone shrill, and people were starting to stare.

 

“I didn’t know that you thought it was a date!” Harry protested.  His cheeks were turning red, he could feel it.  “Ginny, I swear that I thought we were coming as friends.  Nothing more.”

 

The slap was even less of a surprise than the kiss, but he still let it connect.  Whatever would make her stop screaming at this point was pretty much acceptable.  Then she drew back for another one, but froze because Fenris was suddenly between them, his hand on her wrist, her wand in his other hand.

 

“You were allowed one, because I understand that you were upset and you have no chance of actually hurting him,” Fenris said evenly.  “You do not get to hit him again, and you most definitely do not get to cast a spell on him.  Do you understand?”

 

Ginny jerked at her arm and, when Fenris didn’t release her, nodded once.  “I get it,” she said shortly.  She took her wand and stormed off.

 

Harry sighed.  “This break is the worst,” he told Fenris, who just smiled at him.  “It couldn’t get any worse.”

 

Fenris’ eyebrow twitched up.  “You know,” he said, nodding at something behind Harry.  “Every time someone says that, I’m positive that they’re simply daring things to get worse.”

 

“Did you make my little sister cry, mate?”

 

Ron’s voice behind him sent a chill down Harry’s spine.  They’d fought before, but Ron sounded utterly furious with him.  He was almost, almost afraid that Ron would actually do some damage to him, given that tone of voice.

 

Harry turned around.  “Not intentionally?” he tried.

 

This punch didn’t connect, as Fenris got between him and Ron immediately.  “Why don’t you call off your elf, yeah?  You and me can fight it out, finally!”

 

Harry sighed.  “What do you mean, finally?”  The crowd around them was expanding, and he had the feeling that this argument was going to get worse before it got better.  He really hated Hawke in that moment for asking him to stay at Hogwarts for the break.

 

“I mean finally!” Ron exploded.  His face was going red and, if Fenris hadn’t been there blocking him, he probably would have swung at Harry.  “I mean that you’ve been an absolute prat since you came back from Outrealm for the first time, and I think it’s time that we talk about it!”

 

“I… disagree,” Harry said slowly.  “It’s not like I knew that your sister was asking me on a date, Ron.  I never would have said yes if she had been.”

 

“What, you’re too good for a Weasley?” Ron asked, sneering.  “Now that you’ve got your rich Viscount of a cousin, my family’s too poor for you?”

 

“No, Ron, she’s too much of a girl for me!” Harry exploded.  “I don’t want to date her because I’m gay, and I have no interest in women.”

 

“So you’d date me then?” Ron asked.  He stepped forward, stopping only when Fenris made him stop.

 

“No!” Harry shouted at him.  “I wouldn’t date you if you were the last man on earth!”

 

“Because I’m a Weasley, right?  And the great Harry Potter has to have someone rich and beautiful and perfect like him?”

 

“Because you’re an asshole, and I don’t know why we were ever friends!” Harry shouted.  He turned on his heel and stormed off, pushing his way through the massive crowd that didn’t seem inclined to move for him.  He trusted Fenris to keep Ron away from him, and to join him as soon as he could.

 

This Christmas was the worst, and it wasn’t even Christmas yet.  

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

And of course, the holiday didn’t improve with Slughorn’s party.  Harry hadn’t wanted to attend at all, and Fenris was utterly miserable.  Even if he did look pretty damn good in the dress robes Harry had purchased for him.

 

Fenris hadn’t been pleased about those, either.   _ You want me to wear what _ , he’d asked, his tone as bitter and biting as it had ever been before they’d truly become friends, back when Harry wouldn’t have dreamed of asking Fenris to help him with the clinic.

 

Harry had talked him into it, but the look Fenris had given him had promised vengeance.  And now that look was even worse as he glowered at the wizard standing in front of him.

 

“Oh, they’re lyrium,” the man was saying.  Harry didn’t know who he was, but was pretty sure that he’d come with a vampire.  “How fascinating.  You wouldn’t mind if I touched them, would you?”  And then, without asking, the man reached forward and ran a hand down Fenris’ cheek.

 

Harry closed his eyes until the flash of light that followed made him open them again.  Fenris had lit up, and his arm was currently buried in the man’s chest.  “I do mind, actually,” Fenris growled.  “Touch me again, wizard, and I’ll rip your heart out.  Do you understand me?”

 

“Mr. Potter, please call him off,” Slughorn whispered to him.

 

Harry just shook his head.  “Your friend shouldn’t touch people without permission,” he told the Professor.

 

“If you understand me, say so.  Otherwise, I might think that you were being difficult on purpose, and my hand just might slip.”  Fenris jerked his arm ever so slightly, and the man nodded frantically.  “Good.”  Fenris dropped his hand and his tattoos went dark.

 

Harry stepped up to his side.  “Right, well, this has been fun, but Fenris and I are just gonna… not be here anymore.”  He didn’t wait for objections, but instead just grabbed Fenris’ hand and towed him out of the garishly decorated room.

 

“I’m sorry,” Fenris said, once they were alone.  “I didn’t mean to lose control like that.”

 

“I know,” Harry said.  “Please don’t be sorry.  I’m sorry. I should have tried harder to refuse the invitation.”

 

Fenris snorted suddenly.  “Did you see the wizard’s face?” he asked, laughter choking his voice.

 

“We shouldn’t laugh at the idiot,” Harry said, but he snorted as well.  It had been… comically terrified.  He shouldn’t be laughing about it, but he was pretty sure that Hawke would have laughed if he’d been there, and that meant it couldn’t be that bad.  Or perhaps it meant that his morals had become skewed by living in Kirkwall, which had to be something like the murder capital of Thedas.

 

“We need to laugh at something at this point,” Fenris said.  He laughed quietly.  “This holiday is the worst we’ve ever had since you came to this damned school.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, a bit morosely.  “But at least it’s almost over.  There’s only one Christmas left after this and I’ll be done with Hogwarts forever.”

 

Fenris’ arm landed around his shoulders and Harry froze.  “That, Harry, is the best news you could have given me,” the elf said.

 

They stood like that for a long time, then Harry started to walk back to the Tower, thinking that Fenris would probably let him go.  He didn’t.  They walked back to the Tower that way, together, Fenris’ arm warm around his shoulders.

 

Harry didn’t know what was going on between himself and his guard at this point, and he was honestly a little afraid to ask.  What if Fenris didn’t realize he was doing it, and asking made him stop?

 

No, Harry wasn’t going to ask any questions.  Instead, he was going to enjoy the attention that Fenris gave him, and try to enjoy what was left of the winter break.  If nothing else happened, anyway.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The rest of the break passed quietly.  Harry and Fenris exchanged gifts in the Come and Go Room, and Harry very definitely didn’t cry at the beautiful set of daggers Fenris gave him.  Fenris appeared to enjoy the books that Harry got him, even though they were in no way as amazing as the daggers.

 

The day after break ended, however, Harry found himself being called into the Headmaster’s office once more, just after he finished breakfast.  The old man looked truly awful now, as though whatever curse was on him was progressing rapidly.  Once again, he asked that Fenris be sent from the room and, even though Harry was incredibly reluctant, Harry complied.

 

“I have some mixed news for you, Harry,” the Headmaster started with, once they were alone.

 

“Let’s hear the bad first, then,” Harry said.  It was always better to start that way, even when he didn’t care about the bad news.

 

The Headmaster just shook his head.  “The good news, Harry, is that we’ve successfully destroyed two out of three of Voldemort’s remaining horcruxes.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “That is good news,” he said slowly.  “And the bad?  Has Voldemort used the final one to come back already, or something like that?”

 

The Headmaster shook his head.  “Harry,” he said slowly, sounding more like an old man than he ever had before.  “I had hoped that we were wrong about this, but the final horcrux was an accidental one.  Voldemort never knew about it because he never intended to make it.”  The Headmaster fell silent.

 

Harry blinked at him.  “Okay,” he said, drawing the word out.  “Why is that bad news?  Doesn’t that just mean that it won’t have the same protections on it that the others apparently did?”

 

“Because, Harry…”  The old man sighed.  “I don’t know how to tell you this, and I can’t imagine you’ll thank me for telling you, but Harry, my dear boy, you’re the final horcrux.”

 

Harry let out a bark of laughter.  “Funny, Headmaster,” he said, shaking his head.  “Now, what’s the actual bad news?  I would like to get to my classes at some point today.”

 

The Headmaster’s head hung low, like it was too heavy for him to hold.  “I’m sorry, Harry,” the old man said.  His voice was practically creaking, so old did he sound.  “I wish that I could pretend that I was joking, that I could let you believe this was all just a kind of prank.  But it isn’t, Harry.  You carry a piece of that man’s soul inside of you, in your scar.”

 

Harry raised a hand to touch the aforementioned scar, his fingers shaking.  “That’s not possible,” he said slowly.  He was pretty sure that he’d know if he had a bit of someone else’s soul in his head.

 

“It is,” Dumbledore said.  “It’s why your scar hurts, every time he’s near.  It’s why it bleeds, because your mother’s protections are trying to warn you.  They’re the only thing that have kept you from succumbing to the darkness that’s been inside of you since you were a child.  It’s how you speak Parseltongue, Harry.”

 

Harry stood up, quickly enough that the chair he’d been seated on clattered to the ground.  “It’s not true,” Harry said immediately.  He took a step back from the desk.

 

The Headmaster closed his eyes.  “It is,” he said quietly.  “Harry, I’m so sorry.  I’m going to be restricting your movements.  You cannot leave the castle.  And…”  The Headmaster closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “Write to your cousin.  Say your goodbyes.  I won’t let you leave Hogwarts again.  It isn’t safe.  Voldemort could take you over at any moment.”

 

There were things that Harry wanted to say, desperate denials, but he didn’t bother saying them.  He couldn’t even think of how to word them.  Instead, he just turned around and left the room, unable to think of what he was going to do.  He had Voldemort’s soul inside of him?  What kind of monster did that make him?

 

He ran into Fenris, quite literally, on his way out of the Headmaster’s office.  Fenris.  Fenris, who hated magic, who would probably kill him as soon as he found out that he had a piece of the Dark Lord inside of him.  Then Dumbledore wouldn’t need to worry about keeping him imprisoned in Hogwarts.  And even if he didn’t, there went any chance he had of having any kind of relationship with Fenris.

 

“Harry,” he heard Fenris saying urgently, but Harry didn’t respond.

 

He just went back to the Tower, instead of going to classes.  He curled up under his covers and pulled his pillow over his head and hoped that somehow, someway, this was a dream.  That he would wake up and everything would be better.

 

Why did Voldemort have to ruin everything good in his life?  What had Harry done to deserve this?

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry was couldn’t be certain, given that he didn’t look at any clocks, but he thought that he only had a day to hide in his bed before he was quite literally drug from it and hefted into Fenris’ arms.  Harry tried to pull away, but his guard was far stronger than he was and Harry had no interest in actually hurting him, which is what he’d have to do in order to successfully break free.  So he reluctantly submitted to being carried, much as he didn’t want to.

 

He was settled on his feet outside of the Come and Go Room, where the entrance would appear.  “Don’t move,” Fenris growled at him, his lip curled back in a slight snarl.

 

Harry didn’t really have the energy to move, and besides, he had the feeling that Fenris wouldn’t hesitate to track him down and murder him if he tried to flee.  So he just stood there, watching, as Fenris paced in front of the entrance.  

 

When it appeared, Fenris extended a hand to him.  “Will you come with me?” the elf asked.

 

Once upon a time, Harry would have been thrilled to take Fenris’ hand.  He would have done anything for Fenris to give him that kind of gesture, to welcome his touch.  But now, knowing what he knew about himself, Harry didn’t want to. He wanted to go back to his bed, to curl up and hide before Fenris found out that he was apparently some kind of monster.  Or, at the very least, he was hiding a monster inside of himself.  Instead, reluctantly, Harry reached out and took Fenris’ hand.  

 

He was tugged into the room, which had become an exact replica of his bedroom in Kirkwall.  The sight of it brought tears to Harry’s eyes that he blinked back.  He crawled immediately into his bed and curled up under the covers, his back to Fenris.  

 

“I need you to tell me what happened, Harry,” Fenris said.  Harry felt him settling on the bed behind him, felt a gentle hand rest against his back.  “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

 

“You can’t help me with this,” Harry said, his voice muffled by the pillow.  Maker, what was Dumbledore going to do about the horcrux, anyway?  He couldn’t possibly mean to keep Harry trapped at Hogwarts for the rest of his life, could he?  Or… or would he just kill Harry?  Harry shuddered at the thought.

 

“Harry!”  Fenris’ voice was urgent, almost desperate.  “Please, what did that bastard of an old man say to you?”

 

“He told me that I’m a monster!” Harry snapped.  He curled even tighter in on himself once he’d gotten the words out.  He hadn’t meant to say that.

 

Fenris growled something in Tevene and his hand landed on Harry’s shoulder.  Harry found himself being wrenched around so that he had no choice but to face his guard, who was glowering at him, his green eyes burning and his tattoos half-lit.

 

“What did you say to me?” Harry asked, reluctantly curious.  He didn’t know Tevene, had never been able to learn.  He’d never really wanted to, but he had the feeling that whatever Fenris had just said, it wasn’t complimentary.

 

“I said that you will be the death of me,” Fenris snarled.  The light didn’t leave his tattoos.  “You’re as far from a monster as anyone I’ve ever met.  Tell me what, exactly, that idiot said to you.”

 

The words, while harsh, were kind, and Harry hated more than anything that he was going to make Fenris stop being kind to him.  But Fenris had the right to know.  “He said… he said that I have a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of me,” Harry whispered.  He looked away from Fenris, staring at the blanket he’d pulled over himself.  It looked exactly like the one from home, right down to the missing stitches on the edge closest to his face.

 

“You have a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul inside of you?” Fenris echoed.  There was something in his voice, something incredulous, like he couldn’t believe it.

 

That was okay.  Harry hadn’t believed it at first, either.  “Here,” Harry confirmed, reaching up to touch his scar.  “It’s one of the horcruxes.  Dumbledore said that it can take me over at any time, and that I’ll have to stay at Hogwarts forever because it’s not safe to do otherwise.”

 

After Harry stopped speaking, a silence stretched between him and Fenris.  Harry kept his head down so that his guard wouldn’t see the tears that were welling up and spilling over, in spite of Harry’s best efforts.  He didn’t want to try and guilt Fenris into staying by his side.  Fenris would be smart to walk away now, before Voldemort did manage to take Harry over.

 

Soft lips landed on his forehead, just over his scar, startling Harry into looking up.  Fenris was staring at him, a grave expression on his face.  “I have seen evil,” Fenris said slowly.  He raised a hand and rested it on Harry’s cheek, the touch light and gentle, but still holding Harry in place.  “I have seen monsters and madmen, both in Tevinter and in Kirkwall.  And Harry, you are nothing like them.”

 

Harry’s heart skipped a beat.  He stared at Fenris, his eyes wide, the tears stopping.  He swallowed and held himself very still, because he didn’t want to break the strange spell that they were under.  And it had to be a spell, because that was the only explanation for what was happening.

 

With a shaking voice, he finally said, “But I’m going to become like them, the Headmaster says.  When Voldemort takes over my body.”  But he didn’t pull away.  He couldn’t bring himself to.

 

Fenris’ lips quirked into a familiar little smirk.  “Then, Harry, if you ever start to become evil, if you ever choose to walk down a path that would lead us both to ruin, I will consider it my honor and my privilege to be the one who puts you down.”  Then, while Harry was still reeling from those words, Fenris leaned forward and kissed him, his lips a gentle pressure against Harry’s own.

 

Harry’s lips parted and Fenris surged forward, the kiss going from gentle to fiery.  Fenris’ tongue swept into his mouth and Harry trembled as the kiss continued, as he was pushed back down onto the bed.  His cheeks heated with a combination of embarrassment and excitement as his body reacted, but Fenris didn’t pull away.

 

They spent the night there, and Harry learned many things from Fenris that he never would have imagined.  And, when Harry was finished learning things from Fenris, they curled up together and slept, wrapped in each other’s arms.

 

Harry woke the next morning to a soft, sweet kiss on the lips.  Fenris’ eyes were distant when Harry opened his own, but he still held Harry close.

 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked hesitantly.  He felt amazing, certainly better by far than he’d felt before entering the Come and Go Room with Fenris.  But Fenris… looked as though he was reconsidering.  Harry braced himself for those words to be spoken and tried to tell himself that it was okay if Fenris had changed his mind about staying with Harry.  About… about liking him, at the very least.  They could still be friends.  Harry was determined not to lose that, no matter what came out of Fenris’ mouth.

 

Fenris leaned down to kiss Harry again, still soft and sweet.  “That was… more intense than I had anticipated,” he said honestly.  “I enjoyed myself, but there were some memories that I did not expect.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry tried.  He tried for a smile, and must have succeeded because Fenris returned the expression.  “We don’t have to do it again,” Harry added, a bit belatedly.

 

Fenris’ eyebrow quirked up.  “I didn’t say that I wanted to stop,” he said.  “Just… I’ll have to be more prepared for next time.”

 

Harry sagged with relief into Fenris’ embrace, all of the tension he hadn’t even realized he was feeling draining from him.  “I hate you sometimes,” he muttered to the elf.  “You scared me.  I thought-”

 

“Yes, well, we’ve already established that your thinking is somewhat impaired when you’re at this horrible school,” Fenris said loftily.  “You believed yourself to be a monster last night, after all.”

 

Harry flushed.  “I might still be,” he said.  “We can’t know for sure.”

 

“And if you are, I will handle it,” Fenris said evenly.  “But until then, don’t you have classes that you should be worried about?  You skipped them yesterday, and I don’t think you can get out of them twice in a row.”

 

Part of Harry wanted to just stay curled up with Fenris all day, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea.  He didn’t particularly want to give anyone an excuse to come looking for him.  So he made himself get up and get dressed, putting back on the clothes he’d worn the day before.  The good thing about uniforms was that he could wear the same one twice in a row without anyone realizing it.

 

When he left the Come and Go Room, it was with Fenris’ hand in his own and a spring in his step.  Sure, he might have the soul of a monster inside of him, but he also had Fenris, and Fenris was pretty good at killing monsters.

 

And… besides, the Headmaster was wrong about many, many things.  There was always the chance that he was wrong about this, too.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

A week after Harry left the Headmaster’s office without permission, he was summoned back once more.  Harry thought about not going, about talking to McGonagall and telling her that the Headmaster was harassing him about something not related to his education, but discarded the idea almost immediately.  Instead, he took a deep breath, then went to see the Headmaster for what he hoped would be the last time.

 

“Have you given any thought to what we discussed last time?” the old man asked Harry.  He looked somehow, impossibly, older than before.

 

“I have,” Harry said quietly.  Part of him wanted to play the grieving teen, but he didn’t have it in him.  “I’ve decided I’m not all that concerned about it.”

 

Dumbledore’s head jerked up, his eyes wide with surprise.  “You’re not… Harry, my dear boy, you could turn into Voldemort.  I would say that’s great cause for concern.”

 

“Okay, but I’ve had this thing in me since I was a baby, right?”  Harry raised his eyebrows and shrugged.  “It’s not like I couldn’t have turned into Voldemort when I was younger.  Wouldn’t it be easier for something to take over my mind when I don’t have much in the way of a mind of my own?”

 

“Your mother’s love-”

 

“Still protects me,” Harry said firmly.  “Maybe it’ll wear off, maybe not.  Maybe I’m wrong and Voldemort will attempt to possess me, or maybe I’m not.  But I’m not going to live my life in fear of the being that terrorized this world for decades.”

 

“While I would ordinarily say that you have a healthy attitude, Harry, I’m concerned that you don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation,” Dumbledore said, as though he were picking his words very carefully.

 

“You think I don’t understand how bad my situation could be?” Harry laughed.  “Please, Dumbledore.  Fenris has already promised to put me down if I start showing signs of possession.  It’s not like he’s not intimately familiar with the dangers of magic.”

 

“Yes, your guard.”  Dumbledore’s nose wrinkled.  “You two have been holding hands lately.  Am I to believe that your boyfriend will kill you if you turn into a mass murdering monster?”

 

Harry’s teeth gritted.  “Yes,” he hissed out.  “You actually are.  Since you don’t know him, I’ll thank you not to say things about him in such a derogatory tone.”  Then Harry stood.  “If you’ll excuse me, Headmaster Dumbledore, I have classes to worry about.”

 

The Headmaster opened his mouth like he intended to object, then closed it and shook his head.  “Of course, my dear boy,” he said, the words sounding slightly off.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed, but he turned and left the Headmaster’s office without another word.  When he reached Fenris, he said, “There’s something wrong.  I think the old man’s up to something.”

 

Fenris snorted.  “You’re probably not wrong,” he said.  “Can we do anything about it right now?”

 

“Probably not,” Harry said.  He reached for Fenris’ hand, and smiled when the elf took it obediently.  “So for now, I suppose I’ll worry about school.”

 

He headed to class, Fenris at his side.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

February first, Harry went to breakfast with the feeling that something terrible was going to go wrong.  His eyes narrowed when he noted that the Headmaster wasn’t at the table, and that McGonagall’s eyes looked suspiciously puffy.  In fact, most of the professors looked sad in one way or another, barring Snape, who just looked bored with the meal.

 

It came as little surprise when Professor McGonagall, now Headmistress, announced the Headmaster’s unfortunate death.  She spoke of an illness that had plagued the Headmaster all year, and how he had finally succumbed after a year’s fight that had simply gotten the best of him.  There was going to be a memorial service in a few days, and all students would be invited to attend.  Professor Snape was announced as the new Deputy Headmaster, and classes were cancelled for the day.

 

Harry had just made it back up to the dorm when a house elf appeared before him, a scrap of parchment in his hand.  Harry frowned at the elf.  “Harry Potter is being asked to be meeting Professor Snape in his office,” the tiny thing squeaked.

 

Harry’s frown worsened.  “Thanks,” he said slowly.  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

 

The house elf glanced at Fenris, who stood behind Harry, and said, “Harry Potter is being asked to come alone.”

 

“I understand,” Harry said.  He smiled, the expression that Hawke used when he was about to eviscerate someone.  The house elf didn’t realize the danger in the expression and popped away.

 

“You aren’t going alone,” Fenris said immediately.

 

“Of course I’m not,” Harry said.  He headed up to his dorm and dug in his chest until he found his Invisibility Cloak.  “You’ll wear this.  He might be expecting it, given that you wore it my entire fourth year, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

 

“I don’t like relying on luck,” Fenris growled, but disappeared under the Cloak.

 

The walk to Professor Snape’s office wasn’t a short one, but it wasn’t horribly long, either.  Harry tapped on the door once he’d arrived and found himself ushered in.  The Professor was scowling, his eyes dark.  “Mr. Potter,” he started, once Harry had settled into the chair across from his desk.  “I understand that you’ve been having conversations with… with Albus about the thing that sleeps inside of you?”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed, and he was suddenly very glad that he’d brought Fenris.  And even more glad for the daggers he still kept up his sleeves.  “We’ve been discussing it, yes,” Harry said slowly.  “The Headmaster seemed to think that I was going to stay at Hogwarts for the rest of my life, even though I intend to do no such thing.”

 

“Mr. Potter,” Snape started, and then he shook his head.  “Harry.  I know that I haven’t always been particularly kind to you, and I’m afraid that trend won’t be changing now.  You are never going to be able to leave Hogwarts.  You’re too dangerous to let out among the general population.”

 

“And I’m safer to keep at a school?” Harry asked, disbelief clear in his voice.  “Please, Professor, Hogwarts isn’t going to be safe for long if what’s allegedly inside of me gets out.  So I don’t see what good it would do keeping me locked away in the school forever.”

 

Snape sighed and scrubbed at the bridge of his nose.  “Mr. Po… Harry.  You have to understand that Albus had been hoping that it would never come to this.  He’d wanted you to go to war with Voldemort so that things could happen… more naturally.  And I-”  Snape sighed again.  “I wanted things to happen in a very different way as well.  Your mother is going to be so very angry with me, when we meet in the afterlife.”

 

“You knew my mother, Snape?” Harry asked, surprise making him forget to be polite.

 

It was what saved him.  Snape’s head jerked up, and his wand, which he’d apparently been drawing without Harry’s notice, jerked up as well.  Harry didn’t even think, he just dodged.  As he hit the ground, he heard the words of the Killing Curse snarled behind him.  The curse exploded against the chair he’d been sitting in.

 

“Really, Snape?” Harry asked.  He shook his head.  “This is what it comes to?”

 

“You’re not safe, Potter, as you just pointed out yourself,” Snape said.  His wand was still out, and was now pointed, unwavering, at Harry.  “As much as I wish things were different, as much as I wish that I weren’t the one who was being forced to do this, they aren’t, and I am.”

 

“Dumbledore’s dead, Snape,” Harry tried.  “You don’t have to do anything to me.  There’s no one here to make you!  You and I are probably the only two who know-”

 

“And that means that I have to!” Snape snapped.  He cast another Killing Curse, and Harry dodged that one just as easily.

 

He heard Snape let out a strangled noise and, by the time he looked up, Snape was dead on the ground, and Fenris was no longer wearing the cloak.

 

“I wanted to give him a chance, even if he was an asshole,” Harry said, trying to explain to Fenris why he hadn’t just gone for his daggers as soon as he’d realized that something was wrong.

 

Fenris just let out a disgusted noise.  “Of course you did,” he said with a sigh.  He stepped over the Professor’s corpse and leaned in to kiss Harry, briefly but firmly.  “You’re just like your cousin.”

 

Harry brightened.  “Thanks,” he said.

 

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Fenris muttered.  “Now, we’re getting out of here.”

 

“To go where?”  Harry looked around.  “I guess we could go on the run for a little while here, but Aurors will catch up with us eventually.  If we tell them that the Professor was threatening my life-”

 

“We’re not waiting around here to talk to your Aurors,” Fenris sneered.  “We’re going back to Kirkwall.  It’s become painfully clear to me that this school is not safe now, and will never be safe for you.  So I’m exercising my right as your bodyguard to remove you from it immediately.”

 

“But Hawke said that Kirkwall isn’t safe,” Harry said.

 

“Hawke will agree that this is the right decision,” Fenris said firmly.  “Unless you want to go to… what is it, Azkaban?”

 

Harry shook his head.  “Nope,” he said quickly.  “Not even a little bit.  Those dementors…”  Harry shuddered theatrically.  “If we’re leaving, then we should get our bags and get out before anyone figures it out.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Fenris said.

 

Getting their bags was easy.  Getting out of the castle was somewhat harder as, by that time, Snape’s body had been found and the school was on a kind of lockdown.  Harry and Fenris could have hidden out in the Come and Go Room until the Aurors decided that the murderer had left the school, but instead chose to sneak out through the tunnel Harry had found on the Marauder’s Map all those years ago.  It was easy enough, barring a small complication wherein they almost got caught by an Auror.

 

But they made it out without any further bloodshed, and that was the important thing.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Returning to Kirkwall in the middle of the school year was weird, especially given that the city was in strange shape.  As Hawke had said in his letter, the chains were up and there was an abundance of guardsmen wandering the docks.  Harry probably would have had trouble getting through if it weren’t for the fact that Aveline spotted him almost immediately.

 

“What are you two doing back here?” the Captain hissed, after grabbing Harry and towing him to a relatively quiet space, Fenris trailing behind.

 

“Hogwarts was no longer safe for him,” Fenris said with a shrug.  “I couldn’t let him stay there, not when teachers were trying to kill him.  Again.”

 

Aveline shook her head.  “Your cousin is going to murder you,” she said.  “Varric’s been hearing some awful things about what’s to come, and it’s too dangerous for you here right now!  You can’t-”

 

“Aveline!”  Hawke’s voice echoed through the small alcove they were standing in.  “Aveline, I have to have been mishearing things, because I could have sworn that I heard that my darling cousin was back here with Fenris, and I know that I told them to stay at Hogwarts, where it was relatively safe.”

 

“It wasn’t safe anymore,” Fenris said.  “They were trying to kill him.”

 

“Again?” Hawke asked, his voice going a bit shrill.  “Harry, what on earth do you do to those people that they all want you dead?”

 

Harry’s lips twitched.  “Well, remember that awful dark lord that you killed last year?” he asked.  When Hawke nodded, Harry said, “Apparently I have a bit of his soul inside of me that’s allegedly going to possess me and turn me into a monster.  So the Headmaster wanted me to die in combat with Voldemort, but when that didn’t happen and the Headmaster died of some kind of curse, Snape decided that he was going to finish the job.”

 

“Oh, Maker’s breath,” Hawke muttered.  He shook his head.  “Well, you were right then, you couldn’t stay there.”  He sighed.  “It’s still not entirely safe here, but it should be better than that.  But Harry, the clinic’s still a wreck, and even if it weren’t, you’re not allowed to run it right now.  Do you hear me?”

 

“Hey, Hawke, I hear you,” Harry said quickly.  He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.  “I’m not actually looking to make trouble.  After this last year, I could stand to just hide away in the manor for a few weeks while you sort things out here.”

 

“The manor?”  Aveline laughed.  “Harry, you and your cousin have moved up in the world.  While the manor is still in Hawke’s name, I have a feeling that you’ll be joining your cousin in the Viscount’s Keep.”

 

“Or… I could stay in the manor,” Harry said quickly.  “Alone.  By myself.  With my very dedicated bodyguard.”

 

Hawke stared at him as they started walking, escorted by what had to be an entire platoon of guardsmen.  “I’m sure that Fenris has other things to do than watch over you all day, every day,” Hawke said slowly.  “Especially since now I have the city guards at my disposal.  I can get them to watch over you if Fenris needs a break, which I’m sure he will.”

 

“I’m afraid that I won’t be needing a break, Hawke,” Fenris said.  He stepped closer to Harry, so that their shoulders brushed as they walked.  “You see, I’ve promised to kill your cousin if he ever shows signs of becoming possessed by an evil monster.  In order to keep my promise, I’ll have to stay by Harry’s side constantly.  To watch for signs of possession, of course.”

 

Hawke’s eyes narrowed.  He stopped, and turned to stare at Harry, then at Fenris.  Slowly, his eyes widened, glee breaking across his face.  “You-” he started, then stopped.  His smile was practically incandescent.  “I’m telling his godfather on you, you cradle robber,” Hawke practically sang, then took off running.

 

They must have made a strange sight, the Viscount of Kirkwall darting through the streets, laughing like a madman, an elf and a human teenager hot on his trail, with an entire platoon of city guards trailing behind them, most of them not even bothering to run.

 

It was a sight that would become common in the years to come in Kirkwall.  Sometimes, others were added to the mix: a dog, a pirate with no pants, an elven mage, a dwarf with a crossbow, an older man who always looked so tired but so very happy, and even occasionally the Guard Captain.  Later still, children would be added to the mix, ones with reddish-brown hair who tended to call the Guard Captain ‘mom’ and the Viscount ‘uncle’.

 

Things changed in Thedas, and in Kirkwall, and dark times lay ahead of them.  The sky would light on fire, the Divine would die, and an old enemy would return.  But Harry didn’t have to worry about much of that.  Yes, he went with Hawke when Varric sent for him, and he was stunned to realize that he knew this new Inquisitor, and knew him well.  Or… he had known him at one point, anyway.  Power was, surprisingly, a good fit for him.

 

The world went to hell for a bit, but it bounced back and, in the end, Harry returned to Kirkwall where he ran his underground clinic, which was no longer as underground as it had once been.  And Fenris stayed with him through it all.

  
And never once, in spite of Dumbledore’s warnings and Snape’s fears, did Harry ever begin to show signs of possession from the piece of soul allegedly hiding inside of his scar.


	10. Epilogue

Stupid Potter.

 

It was all his fault.  All of it!  If he’d just… just… just let that damned ritual be finished properly in that stupid graveyard, if he’d never run away to Thedas, or wherever the hell it was, if he hadn’t learned how to fight and learned how to… how to…

 

...how to kill his father…

 

Draco Malfoy shook the thoughts off and continued walking.  This wasn’t where he was supposed to have ended up.  He was supposed to get a job with the Ministry, bought with his father’s influence.  He was supposed to graduate from Hogwarts and live as a king under the Dark Lord’s new regime and… and… and that hadn’t happened, had it?  And it was all Potter’s fault!

 

That was why he’d come.  He’d had to.  Potter had ruined his life, and then had fucked off to Outrealm where nobody could touch him.  Well, Malfoy had done his best to let it go.  His mother had begged him, but four years after all of their dreams had collapsed, he’d given up.  He’d decided that he was going to go after Potter and, if nothing else, he was going to make the bastard pay for killing his father.

 

He should have wound up in Kirkwall.  That’s how transportation between the realms worked, after all.  He should have ended up in exactly the same city that Potter had.  Not… here, wherever here was.

 

He could here shouting and, as little interest as he had in figuring out what whoever it was wanted, he didn’t have anywhere else to go.  The whole building seemed old and drafty and just… strange.  And he felt like he’d been walking forever.  And, besides, he would need allies if he were planning on going after Potter.  Investigating probably wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had...

 

So when he heard an old woman shouting “Someone, help me,” he couldn’t help but follow the voice.

 

He opened a door and frowned.  There was a woman wearing a truly ridiculous costume, being held up by creepy, glowing red light.  An utterly hideous person was standing there with a glowing green orb, that appeared to be doing something with her life force.  “What’s going on here?” Draco asked, not entirely sure which side he was on but having the feeling that he should probably pick one.

 

The old woman, who was clearly more clever than Draco would have given her credit for given her silly costume, used the distraction of his entrance to knock the glowing green ball from the creepy man’s hand.  Draco, who had once been a Seeker (even if Potter had always been the better one), couldn’t stop himself from catching it when it rolled in his direction.

 

He felt a searing pain that traveled all the way up his arm.  A look of horror dawned on the disfigured man’s face, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not planning on writing the adventures of Inquisitor Malfoy, but in case anyone was wondering, I'd imagine that he winds up with Iron Bull. Also, once he got rid of the stick up his ass, Sera would be one of his best friends and they would totally spend their time trying to prank the Viscount's cousin.


End file.
